


Torn Apart

by Angstosaur



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e12 Fragments, Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 92,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angstosaur/pseuds/Angstosaur
Summary: My take on Fragments and Exit Wounds, with several alternative outcomes. Just what is torn apart and who will Jack lose this time?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Gwen! Gwen – wake up!” 

Rhys slapped his wife’s naked bottom and waited for her to stir. For some reason her head was down by his feet and the duvet was pulled across the bed sideways. Glancing across the floor at the scattered articles of clothing, hastily shed by the looks of them, and then catching sight of the pair of lacy red knickers hanging off the wardrobe door it all came back to him. He grinned.

“Ughhh?” mumbled Gwen incoherently, her head feeling heavy with the type of hangover gifted by an excess of cheap red wine. As the room revolved around her head, she noted the clenching of her stomach that seemed intent on reminding her of the last time she swore never to touch supermarket Valpolicella again.

“Your phone! It’s ringing. I’m not answering it. It’s probably him again.”

Rhys was growing increasingly irritated at the way Jack Harkness always managed to call them at the most inconvenient of moments. It occurred to him, in a moment of paranoia, that maybe the bastard had hidden cameras in their bedroom. Even the thought of it really pissed him off. He scowled as Gwen clambered over him to reach over the edge of the bed. She pulled her hand bag out from under the heap of clothes, where it had been dumped when they’d stumbled in at some unearthly hour. It struck Rhys that his wife was never quite so graceful in her movements when she woke up after a good night out. 

Gwen pulled the phone out of her handbag just as the ringing stopped, but before she had the chance to call the number back there was the distinctive sound informing her that she had received a text message as well as voicemail.

The instructions were brief and to the point: four or five life signs had been detected in a derelict industrial building on the outskirts of the city. 

“Shit!” Gwen slammed the phone down and dashed off in the direction of the bathroom. She scrabbled around in the bathroom cabinet, grabbed the packet of paracetamol and downed two with a gulp of tap water.

“That was Harkness, wasn’t it?” Rhys appeared beside her, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. His voice sounded resigned.

“No, not Jack. It was Ianto.”

“What? Don’t tell me he’s going to be phoning at all hours as well… what’s going on?”

“Don’t be daft. They’ve got signs of non-human life – Ianto texted me the location. I don’t suppose-”

“I really don’t think you should be driving yet, you know. I bet you’re still over the limit -”

“Drop the lecture, Rhys. I’m not going to drive, but something’s turned up and they need me. Can you give me a lift?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, sweetheart, please? You weren’t drinking last night, come on, please… I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

“OK. Come on then – let’s not hang around.”

Gwen regretted not having time for a shower, but decided she’d grab one back at the Hub later, once they got back from the callout. She pulled on her usual work attire of leggings, boots, slinky top and leather jacket. The hours may have been better in the force, but she’d always hated the uniform, especially that bloody hat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto answered his cell phone as the SUV swung crazily around the corner – he was sure that Jack did that deliberately to make him grab hold of his arm. 

“Gwen? Right then, we’ll see you there.” 

“She’s on her way?” Jack turned his head and grinned as he appraised what Ianto was wearing. He loved that suit and the man in it. 

“Yep. Meeting us there.”

“Good – that makes five of us and four or five aliens. Better odds.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The SUV came to a skidding halt on the broken tarmac outside the deserted buildings. The four team members checked their equipment once more, they were all armed and Tosh held a scanner that was indicating that they were in the right place. Ianto took a second scanner and tucked it into his jacket pocket, and then he stepped out of the vehicle loading his semi-automatic as his feet hit the ground. He was the epitome of elegance in his dark, silk-lined suit and he knew it. Ianto smiled shyly to himself knowing precisely the effect his outfit had on Jack. The sooner these creatures were dealt with the better, he had unfinished business back at the Hub, or, to be more exact, in Jack’s quarters.

The team fell in with Jack as he moved purposefully across the scrubby wasteland towards the red brick buildings. Ianto to his right, with Tosh and Owen slightly behind them. It was then that Rhys pulled up alongside the SUV, Gwen throwing open the passenger door and then leaning over to give her husband a quick kiss before leaping out to join her colleagues. She resisted the urge to wave goodbye as Rhys drove off, knowing that it would only prompt Owen to torment her more than usual, she could already see that he was ready to have a go.

“I am so sorry I missed your call, Ianto,” Gwen called out trying to catch Ianto’s attention and avoid having to deal with Owen. 

“Don’t worry about it, Cooper,” snarled Owen. “After all, you’re the only one of us sad gits with a life. I’m surprised you’re not on flexitime.”

“Sod off, Owen.” The last thing Gwen wanted to deal with a hangover was Owen.

“Nice of you to join us, Gwen, better late than never I guess.” Jack raised an eyebrow as he tapped his watch. He then led on with Owen and Tosh in tow, leaving Ianto to speak with Gwen.

“I brought a spare gun and comm. Unit,” explained Ianto as he passed the items to Gwen.

“Bloody early start this is - I take it you stayed over at the Hub last night then?”

Ianto shook his head and walked on, refusing to acknowledge Gwen’s conspiratorial wink or her prying into his sleeping arrangements. It was only last week that she had caught him and Jack in the hot house with their pants down, literally, so that ought to tell her all she needed to know. Fortunately, he was spared further interrogation as Jack issued instructions.

“Gwen, you and Ianto can take the other side of the building, check the upper floors. Tosh and Owen - with me, we’ll check the ground floor.”

Ianto and Gwen jogged off towards the back of the building whilst the others followed Tosh who was holding her scanner in front of her like a dowsing rod. Jack took one last look at Ianto as he ran across the dried earth, overgrown with weeds, admiring the view and hoping for a speedy resolution to this matter. The sooner he got Ianto back to the Hub the better.

“This way,” called out Tosh.

The open expanse inside the old factory was made claustrophobic by the thick brick pillars that obscured their view and made it seem as if there could be anything lurking behind the next corner. As they walked into the building, Tosh frowned.

“I'm getting mirror readings on both floors. Separate signals at either end of the building.”

Jack looked in front of him and indicated wordlessly for Owen and Tosh to head in one direction, as he spun round to check the opposite end of the building.

“Y’know these creatures are very quiet,” mumbled Jack as he prowled cautiously, his gun aimed at nothing in particular.

“Maybe they’re asleep?” wondered Gwen out loud as she took it in turns with Ianto to scoot forward and swing her gun aimed two-handed into the open areas. She knew that she’d personally much rather still be in bed. 

“Perhaps they’re hatching?” suggested Ianto, scanning the floor space for anything remotely egg-like. Yet another reason to regret watching Alien with Jack the previous night, he thought, remembering Jack’s outrageous claims.

“Or maybe they aren’t creatures at all,” added Tosh.

It was at that point that Jack caught sight of an explosive device. The countdown on it was ominously low. There was no way, outside of movies, that the timers on any bomb reached zero just as they were discovered. This had to be deliberate. Someone had lured them here intent on trying to kill him and his team. Before he had time to curse whoever it might be, the device detonated. 

There were shockwaves as each device exploded at the same moment. The sound was deafening and muted any attempted communication.

The walls crumbled, joists came crashing down and what was left of the windows blew out in spectacular blasts of rotten wood and glass. 

Ianto barely had time to roll his eyes before spinning around to push Gwen to the ground. He shielded her with his body as a slab of partition wall slammed into him from behind, knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could catch his breath a flying shard of brick caught his temple rendering him unconscious. He never heard Gwen’s screams.

As soon as Tosh saw the device she yelled at Owen to take cover and between them they took shelter against the wall, holding their arms above their heads to deflect the worst of the shower of rubble that cascaded down onto them, Owen favouring his bandaged left hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack gasped as his ribcage expanded, dragging air into his oxygen-starved lungs. He was trapped. There were clouds of dust still settling around him and the sounds of loose pieces of brick rolling down heaps of rubble as he moved. Other than that, there was silence. He blinked furiously, tears flushing the grit from his eyes as he desperately wondered what had happened to the others. He thought of Ianto and bit his lip. _Not him, please, not him._


	2. Chapter 2

Tosh opened her eyes, dazed and confused. She wondered if she’d lost consciousness because she could have sworn she was somewhere else, but she couldn’t recall where. Her leather coat was bunched up underneath her, making her feel uncomfortable and she gradually became aware of the cold concrete floor through the thinner fabric of her jeans. It was darker than she’d thought it should be, unless she’d been knocked out for a while and night had begun to fall. 

Blinking dust out of her eyes, Tosh turned her head, trying to orientate herself, looking for the large windows, but they weren’t there, instead there was a heavy beam of some sort just above her, blocking out much of the light. Although it had apparently protected her from the worst of the blast, it was also pinning her down into a narrow space; she was unable to sit up, never mind stand. The only way she could move was by shuffling across on her back over the rubble towards the triangle of light that was visible under the debris. She wriggled around and tried to grab hold of something to pull herself out of the gap, wincing at the sharp pain in her arm. 

“Tosh, don’t move a muscle! Stay exactly where you are,” Owen hissed quietly, yet urgently.

“Why? What is it, Owen?” Tosh froze in position, afraid that there were more explosive devices. 

“To put it bluntly, there’s a window come loose out here and if you’re not careful it’s gonna slice you in half.”

Lying on her back, Tosh exhaled slowly and, without turning her head, looked to her left. Owen was crouching to one side of her holding the window frame with his good hand, as he tried to balance it on the remnants of the white painted brick wall that had collapsed inwards. 

Following his gaze, Tosh could see the rest of the window frame, precariously balanced a few feet above her head. Suddenly the glass panes shuffled down under the force of gravity, until friction resisted their downward motion once more.

“Fuck it!”

“Are you OK, Owen?” 

“Yeah, I got lucky. Now listen carefully. I’m going to prop this up here and then I’m going to grab hold of you and pull you out. Just do as I say, OK?”

“Owen, be careful,” Tosh gulped as she considered his plan and realised that it was not guaranteed to work. If he wasn’t careful he could be injured and he wouldn’t heal.

“Trust me, I’m a doctor.” 

Even though his physiological reactions were now governed by whatever energy force had taken over his body, Owen was surprised to experience some of the symptoms of a rush of adrenaline, he felt twitchy, even though he knew his heart wasn’t beating at all. He could have sworn his mouth was dry. If it had been anyone else, Ianto for example, he’d have been carrying out tests on them at every opportunity, but seeing as it was his own body artificially animated, he was surprisingly squeamish. He just hoped he still had enough physical strength to get Tosh out safely.

“Owen? It’s moving again…” whispered Tosh anxiously.

Tosh tried not to stare at the window above her, but her eyes were glued to the trembling pieces of glass, their jagged edges looking particularly sharp. To her side, she could hear Owen piling up lumps of masonry to hold the frame in place. Then she heard him moving slowly until he was crouched down on the ground behind her head. She felt his hand brush across her forehead gently as if to reassure her and then he slid his hands under her arms, curling up around her shoulders to take the weight of her upper body. 

“When I say ‘now’, I’m going to pull you out. Try to tuck your legs out of the way as fast as you fucking can. Got it?” whispered Owen. 

“OK.” Tosh held her breath as she focused on the window hovering overhead.

“Now!” 

Owen tugged hard, dragging Tosh backwards, her back scraping over broken bricks and lumps of concrete. She pulled her legs up and dug her feet into the rubble, kicking to propel herself out of the position she’d been trapped in. She screamed out loud as the glass panes shot out of the frame, smashing into the ground where she’d just been lying. Shards of glass flew out in all directions, but Owen had spun her around so that none hit her in the face. 

She grabbed hold of Owen and was pleasantly surprised to find him holding onto her just as tightly.

“You OK?”

“Yes… Thank you.”

“Let’s go find Jack and the others.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack heard the scream and panicked. What the hell had happened? It sounded like Tosh. 

“Tosh!!!” he yelled. “Tosh! Owen!”

“We’re coming, hold on there!” shouted Owen in reply.

“Jack, where are you?” asked Tosh.

Jack breathed out with a sigh of relief as he heard two of his team approaching, there was still hope that they had all survived. Their voices echoed through the empty spaces as they made their way to where Jack lay. 

Owen quickly assessed Jack’s condition. He was lying under some large pieces of broken masonry, his back partly leaning against a metal supporting pillar that was bloodstained as if he had hit his head against it. The red brick pillar lying on its side next to him had narrowly missed crushing his legs. It occurred to Owen that Jack had been killed, again. He hoped that Gwen and Ianto had been luckier.

“Hang on, we’ll get you out of there,” said Owen attempting to calm Jack, who was looking as if he was starting to panic.

“What about Ianto and Gwen? Have you heard from them? Go find them first, I’ll be OK …”

“Shut up, Harkness. You’re in no position to give orders until we’ve dug you out of there. Then all three of us can go and find Gwen and Ianto, got it? Come on now, co-operate, will you?”

Owen and Tosh started moving the pieces of rubble away so that they could get to the larger pieces of metal, one of which looked as if it had impaled Jack, it was wet and sticky, and there were bloodstains all over the front of his pale blue shirt. Meanwhile, Jack was frantically pushing away lumps of reinforced concrete, desperate to get free as soon as possible.

“Come on! Faster! We’ve got to find Ianto and Gwen – if anything’s happened to either of them, I’ll kill whoever did this!” Jack snarled angrily. “If either of them is dead … if Ianto is hurt … I swear, I’ll kill the bastards with my bare hands-”

“They’ll be OK, Jack. Stop panicking, you’re not fucking helping,” snapped Owen.

“Just get me out of here, Owen. We have to find them. I meant what I said, if anything has happened to them I –”

“I’ve got the message, Jack! Now just give us a hand, will you? If you can push from underneath while we take either end of this lump …”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So intent were they on digging Jack out of his tomb of rubble, that not one of them noticed the two figures standing behind what remained of a supporting column of brickwork several feet away from where they were situated.

The younger of the two men turned to the figure wearing the red military jacket and smiled with a hint of malice.

“Well that’s interesting. You didn’t tell me about that. Which one is it then? Which one of them is he involved with?” 

The older man gestured for him to hush as they moved away stealthily. Fortunately for them, Jack’s shouting and Owen’s cursing, along with the sound of bricks being thrown around masked any sound of their conversation.

“What the fuck are you on about now?” 

“He’s scared he’s lost them. Come on, you saw him with his gang before. You must know who it is.” 

The younger of the two men sounded excited, almost like a child, or more accurately like a playground bully who has found out another weakness with which to torment his latest victim.

“I dunno – it could have been either the feisty brunette or the cute boy toy.” 

John Hart shrugged, feigning disinterest. He wasn’t sure what Gray was conjuring up in his warped mind, but the kid was unstable enough. 

“For all I know, he was fucking both of them. They both smelt of him," muttered John as bitchily as he could. It didn't take much and he was telling the truth - they both had smelt of Jack. "But knowing him, he’s probably worked his way through the whole team by now. Drop it, Gray, it’s nothing. Let’s go take their transport before they finish digging each other out.”

“Not yet. Come on – I want to find his fuck buddies.” Gray’s eyes lit up with a look that could only be described as malicious. “I’ve got an idea. There’s been a change of plans.”

“No, Gray. For fuck’s sake, not again, you can’t just keep doing that. Come on, let's stick to the plan.” 

John had only just figured out a way to sabotage Gray’s most recent scheme so that it wasn’t quite so demented. Although he was more than happy to make Jack pay for humiliating him once before, he wanted him back, which wasn’t quite what Gray had in mind. However, if anything happened to Eye Candy or the one he’d let call him Vera, then he didn’t think he’d be getting back in Jack’s pants any time soon. Typical, just when he thought he’d got it all sorted, this mad fucker was going to screw it all up. He was pretty enough, but his brains were well and truly scrambled.

“Tough shit. Oh, John, I wish you’d told me about this before. I do hope they’re still alive.” 

Gray’s grin reminded him of Jack’s – in the old days, when he was going to inflict a lot of pain on some poor bastard and enjoy every second of it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ianto!” 

“Gwen!”

“Teaboy?” 

“You should have left me and gone to look for them first – I told you!” spat Jack.

“Maybe they’ve just been knocked out? We’ll find them, Jack.” Tosh placed her hand on the sleeve of Jack’s coat, noting that it was now torn and thickly coated with a mixture of brick dust and grey pulverised concrete. 

“There’s more damage over there,” Owen pointed to the area where most of the debris was piled high. “That’s probably where the devices detonated up here.” 

Owen didn’t want to add that if Gwen and Ianto had been that close to the explosion they were probably going to be in a bad way. He could tell from Jack’s bleak expression that he’d already figured that out.

“Look over there – it’s a scanner.” Tosh stepped carefully over the loose heaps of bricks towards the electronic device that lay shattered on the floor. “Ianto had one with him.” 

Slowly, the three of them walked towards the place that Tosh had indicated, almost afraid of what else they might find.

“Oh fuck.” Owen closed his eyes tight, hoping that what he’d seen was just an illusion and that when he opened them again the white bricks would be just that, flaking white paint with no smears of dark red. 

“Owen? What have you got?” demanded Jack. He saw it before Owen had the chance to reply and was on his knees in an instant, scrambling amongst the broken bricks and lumps of mortar, digging his way through, frantically searching. 

Tosh and Owen joined him and as they dug deeper they found fragments of bricks with bloodstains, but no bodies, alive or otherwise. Jack grew more and more frenetic, throwing lumps of twisted metal angrily to one side as he looked desperately for signs of life, all the time calling out the names of Ianto and Gwen. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others that his voice was breaking as he called out Ianto’s name. 

“They’re not here, Jack,” stated Owen, grabbing hold of Jack’s hands. “There’s nothing under here – look, we’ve reached the floor surface.” 

Pulling his hands away angrily, Jack looked up and noticed a scrap of cloth on a rusty nail, sticking out from a rotten piece of wood. The fabric was crimson red, but not from blood. It was dyed that colour. He pulled it free and held it between his fingers, it was silk. He recognised it – it was from the lining of Ianto’s suit jacket. 

“Ianto was here.” Jack said with determination, holding the scrap of silk tightly in his fist. “And there’s blood, so at least one of them is injured. Where the hell have they got to?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto groaned. Bright light flooded his vision as he tentatively opened his eyes and automatically shut them again quickly. He’d been in a warehouse. It had been dark and raining as he had walked out into the night ... he shook his head knowing that his memories were scrambled. That had been a different warehouse. This time there had been a bomb, several bombs … the dark warehouse was from another time entirely. Why did he think he was there? That place where he’d first betrayed Jack, where he’d first felt Jack’s body pressing down on his and he’d wanted him. Without understanding why, he’d been attracted to Jack in a way he’d never experienced for anyone else, ever, from the moment they’d met. He’d betrayed Lisa that night as well.

There was a pounding in Ianto’s head. Brushing his fingertips across his temple carefully, he winced as his felt a raised lump, it was sticky and hurt like hell. Rolling over carefully, sharp pains shooting up and down his spine, he was surprised to find that the ground was softer than he’d expected it to be. Maybe he’d been thrown from the building when it blew up? Opening his eyes once more he saw that there was grass underneath him, long grass, tickling his nose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen stretched out her arms as she came around, feeling for something, or somebody. Keeping her eyes closed, her fingers made contact with what felt like a trouser-clad leg. She found that strange, having expected to feel bare flesh. Lightly running her hand up the leg, she smiled as her fingers encountered an outward curve and then she gently began to squeeze the nearest buttock. It was firm and muscular, quite pert. That’s when she knew something was wrong. Whoever’s bum she was groping, nice as it was, didn’t belong to Rhys.

“Bloody hell!” Gwen’s eyes shot open to find Ianto glaring at her over his shoulder, looking mortified. 

“Gwen?” Ianto swallowed hard. “Um … I think you’d better take your hand off my arse.”

She reluctantly moved her hand away, idly wondering if Ianto would file a sexual harassment complaint against her. Jack would love that. Thinking of Jack, she realised that they were no longer in the warehouse. There had been an explosion and Ianto had tried to shield her, that’s all she remembered. Her head was throbbing and she felt sick.

“Where the hell are we, Ianto?” Gwen sat up slowly, leaning back on her hands, taking in the surrounding countryside. They were in a clearing surrounded by trees, with absolutely no sign of the derelict buildings or the rest of the team. 

“I don’t know – yet.” Ianto grimaced as he sat up and rubbed his aching back. 

“Hang on, you’re bleeding, love.” Gwen reached out as if to touch Ianto’s bruised and bloodied forehead, but stopped as she saw him flinch back. 

“It’s OK, I’ve got a thick skull. How are you? Any injuries?” Ianto didn’t want to let on to Gwen how much pain he was in, she’d only smother him. He was worried about the others, about Jack, wondering where they were.

“Just scrapes and bruises I think, nothing serious. My head hurts, but to be honest with you, that might still be an aftereffect of too much cheap red plonk.”

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t answer the phone straightaway this morning and why you got Rhys to drop you off,” surmised Ianto, feeling more sympathetic than he had been earlier that day.

“Yeah … he wasn’t happy about that mind. It was his day off and he was looking forward to a nice … lie-in,” Gwen replied, going slightly pink at the recollection of how she’d told Rhys they could spend the day. “I’ve had to promise to cook dinner tonight.”

“At least you can cook,” muttered Ianto, wistfully. It occurred to him that Gwen would do her best to make it up to her husband for spoiling their day off. “Jack can’t cook.”

Gwen paused before asking what he meant by that and then smiled to herself as she worked it out. If Ianto meant that Torchwood spoiled his days off, he was also implying that he got to spend some of them with Jack.

“So – maybe those devices transported us somewhere,” suggested Gwen, pushing herself to her feet. “What do you think?”

“That’s possible. Last thing I remember is the explosion. Seems like we got knocked out by the blast and then ended up out here,” sighed Ianto, trying to get his bearings and failing. “But, this doesn’t look like Bute Park – does it?”

Ianto got to his feet shakily, accepting Gwen’s hand to help him up. He made a futile attempt to brush the dirt and dust from his crumpled suit. It had been his favourite one, the one with red silk lining. That would teach him to wear it out in the field just to tantalise Jack. 

“Nope. And this doesn’t look like anywhere near where we were… that end of town is all abandoned factories and warehouses. Closed off for demolition. No parks anywhere near there.”

“I think we can safely assume we’re not in Cardiff any more –” 

“Does that make me Dorothy?” interrupted Gwen, nudging Ianto in the ribs suggestively.

“Don’t go there, Gwen. I’m warning you-”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” said Gwen apologetically. She was still uncertain when it came to teasing Ianto. “I take it you haven’t got your comm either? I’ve lost mine.”

“Nope – must have got knocked out when we went flying.”

Ianto frowned. Those comm units took a lot to dislodge and it seemed strange that they had both lost them. Almost as if they’d been removed by a third party not wanting them to be able to communicate with the rest of the team.

“So, no calling a taxi then.”

“We’ll have to walk to the nearest road anyway. Perhaps we can hitch a lift back into town?”

“Which way?”

Ianto didn’t want to admit that he had no idea which way they should head. He walked uphill to get a better view of their surroundings. He was startled to realise there were no buildings anywhere to be seen. They must have been out of it for longer than he thought, or Gwen had been right about the devices transporting them out of the city completely. Turning to scan the horizon, he squinted as he could pick out the distinctive appearance of wisps of smoke. In the distance, a thin pale grey plume of smoke rose above the trees. It was the only sign of life.

“That way,” Ianto called out to Gwen, pointing in the direction of the smoke. “Someone’s got a fire of some sort out in that direction.”

Ianto jogged back down the hill to join Gwen and held out his arm for her. She hooked her hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled him close. It looked as if they were on their own and they had a long walk ahead of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s that noise? Sounds like a car engine.” Tosh lifted her head as she heard the distinctive sound of a car’s ignition. 

“Maybe it’s Gwen and Ianto?” Owen didn’t look convinced, optimism didn’t come naturally to him.

“Oh yeah? Why the hell would they drive off without us?” Jack called out as he darted back towards the stairs.

Owen and Tosh followed in his wake, taking a lot more care walking through a semi-collapsed building than their indestructible leader. Tosh took one more look across the deserted floor and wondered what had happened to her friends.

Jack stood, dishevelled and bruised, watching as the SUV spun its wheels in the gravel before hurtling around the corner and out of sight. The cloud of dust was barely settling as Tosh and Owen joined him.

“Did you see who it was, Jack?”

“No – too late, but I know damn well that neither Gwen nor Ianto drive like that,” replied Jack.

Before they could catch their breath and take in what had happened, Jack’s wrist strap began to emit a loud bleeping sound.

“Oh, no,” muttered Jack in disbelief. He opened the cover and pressed a button, triggering the appearance of a hologram. A smug-looking John Hart materialised before them.

“What does he want?” demanded Tosh, looking to Jack for answers, but his lips were tightly sealed, his expression grim.

“Oh, déjà vu! Or did I say that already?” John Hart chuckled at his own joke. “Hey, team. Course, there might be a few less of you by now.” 

The sly grin on John Hart’s face told Jack, in no uncertain terms, that he was the person responsible for the disappearances of both Ianto and Gwen, and his blood ran cold.

“Don’t know if you liked my little gifts. Course, you can’t die,” snarled John Hart bitterly. “And with all that life, all that time, you can’t spare any for me.” 

Jack cursed quietly, he should have known better than to have trusted his old partner to leave him in peace.

“Oh! Say hi to the family.”

The image of John touched his wrist strap to make a second hologram appear – a young man in a padded, beige outfit. His physical resemblance to Jack indicated that he was a relative.

“No … it can’t be.” Jack shook his head, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“Been a while since you’ve seen your brother, eh, Jack?”

“Gray?” mumbled Jack, emotionally shell-shocked by the revelation. He recognised his brother, even though he’d aged significantly since he’d last seen him.

“OK, here’s what’s going to happen. Everything you love. Everything you treasure. It will die. I’m going to tear your world apart, Captain Jack Harkness, piece by piece. Starting now,” growled John Hart, resentment dripping from his threats. “Maybe now you’ll wanna spend some time with me.”

As the spiteful sentiments struck home, the message ended abruptly. The holograms of both John and Gray vanishing in an instant. 

Jack could already feel his world being torn apart.


	4. Chapter 4

“Bastard’s taken our SUV!” swore Owen, stating the obvious as he looked around as if seeking an alternative form of transport. “But where to?”

“Looks like he’s driven it back to Torchwood,” replied Tosh holding up her battered tablet.

The tracking monitor was indicating that the SUV was heading towards Cardiff Bay. Tosh then frowned as rift alerts started to come in thick and fast.

“I’m getting readings of rift activity all over the city. Major rift flares at St Helen’s Hospital, the Police Headquarters and the Central IT Server Station.”

“Three locations. Three of us. And no damn transport.” Jack could discern a pattern, a familiar one that bothered him immensely. Yet another game designed to divide and conquer – one of John’s favourites. “Does anyone still have a phone that works?”

“Here – I found Gwen’s in the rubble.” Owen pulled the mobile from his jacket pocket, but just as he was about to hand it over to Jack it began to ring.

“Who is it? If it’s Rhys, don’t answer!” instructed Jack, glaring at the phone. “I don’t want to talk to him until we know what’s happened to Gwen.” 

“Nope, it’s Andy. Gwen’s copper mate – hang on he’s left a text.”

Owen selected the option to view PC Andy Davidson’s plea for help and laughed as he saw the caps locked message.

G – NEED TW HELP. SPOOKY SHIT HITTING FAN. 

Owen huffed as he showed the message to the Jack and Tosh. 

“I’d assume that must be referring to whatever is going down at the police station.” 

“No shit, Tosh. Shall we ignore it Jack?”

“No, call him back. Find out what it is first. Tell him Gwen’s unavailable and that the police can deal with whatever it is on their own.” 

Jack had enough to worry about without bailing out the city’s police force again. He still remembered the Roman centurion they couldn’t handle.

Owen walked off as he tried to find a decent signal. The increased rift activity was already beginning to affect the communication systems. 

“Tosh – what’ve you got there?” asked Jack as he saw Tosh busily working away, her head down and hair in her eyes.

“I’ve booked a taxi online to pick us up from here.” 

“Good thinking. See what else you can find out about this rift activity-” 

“Jack, this is him again, isn’t it? Captain John or whatever he likes to call himself?”

“Yeah, I think so-” 

“Shit!” Owen, swore, cutting off the connection quickly, not giving a toss about PC Andy’s protests. 

He stormed back to join Jack and Tosh, ranting as he approached them.

“Right – sounds like a group of weevils have attacked the police station. Managed to break into a senior officers’ meeting and kill the four top ranking officers. I haven’t the first idea what the fuck Andy thought Gwen could do, she was never that high ranking was she? Anyway, I told him to get them locked up and not go anywhere near them. Oh, yeah and I put him in charge.”

“You put PC Andy Davidson in charge of the city’s police force?” Jack was incredulous.

“What? He’s the same rank as Gwen was when we hired her. He’ll manage, they’ve coped with rugby fans, they can cope with a few weevils.”

“That tallies with what I’m getting from the emergency services.” Tosh looked up from the display that was flashing on the small screen in front of her. “I’ve also got reports of one hostile alien at the hospital, large, lots of teeth. And what the technical guys are calling ghosts in the central server station keeping out anyone who could repair the damage.”

“That settles it then. Owen, you take the hostile in the hospital and Tosh, I want you to tackle the IT problem – those servers can’t go down, or systems across the city will collapse.”

“Jack, these are probably more traps,” Tosh pointed out, keen to remind Jack, that although he was immortal, she wasn’t and who knew what could happen to Owen.

“So be careful.” Jack wanted to reassure her, but he could only hope that his team’s strengths would see them through this current crisis. “You know what he’s capable of.”

“What about you?” Owen asked.

“I’m gonna go reason with him. He’ll be in the Hub and I hate to think what else he’s getting up to.” 

“He just tried to kill us,” Owen pointed out. “For all we know, he’s already killed Gwen and Ianto!”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that!” Jack growled, not needing his worst fears to be put into words. “Look, I was the only one who could ever control him. That’s why the Time Agency partnered us. If Ianto and Gwen are to stand any chance at all, I need to get to him.”

“Why’s he doing this Jack? What does he want?” Tosh could see that there was more to this than met the eye and that Jack was keeping something back. 

“That’s what I’m going to go ask.” 

Jack knew he was going to struggle not to obey his instincts and kill Hart on sight. He also wondered what the hell he was doing with that image of his brother, Gray. Was John holding him captive as well or was it just another con? Gray looked older, he was just a kid when he’d last seen him, but the family characteristics were there. He still looked like their mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whilst they waited for the taxi to turn up, Owen made a show of checking that Tosh hadn’t received any other injuries. It made him feel useful and Tosh, sensing that, let him ask his questions as she checked through the readings of rift activity for the previous hour. That’s when she spotted the anomalous readings whose co-ordinates overlapped with their precise location.

“Look here, Jack!” Tosh pointed frantically at her PDA. “There was something like rift activity centred here, about half an hour ago!”

“Was that before or after the explosions?”

“Both – I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Jack sighed, but before he could respond to Tosh, he saw the taxi approach. “Quick – there’s the taxi! We’ll check that later, Tosh. Come on!” 

Jack wrenched open the front door of the taxi and leapt into the passenger seat.   
“Owen, we need to drop you off at the hospital, see what you can do. Tosh, you’ll have to cover the central server building. The police are on their own, they have the manpower to deal with weevils, we don’t. After all, Owen has appointed a stand-in chief of police from the ranks, so I’m sure they’ll be fine.” 

The taxi driver looked bemused until Jack shoved a roll of notes in his hand and instructed him to ignore speed limits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen could feel the tension in Ianto’s arm as he helped her negotiate a steep-banked stream and she saw how he winced as he grabbed hold of a gnarled root to pull himself up on the other side.

“Hey there, you OK? You’re not looking so good.”

“Thanks Gwen, but seeing as I got flattened by a brick wall it’s not surprising now, is it? I’ll feel much better after some of Owen’s industrial strength pain killers. So, the sooner we get back to the Hub the better. OK?”

“You want me to look at your back for you? Perhaps I could work out some of the knots…” Gwen suggested.

“Thanks for the offer, Gwen, but there’s not much you could do for it. It’s going to take heavy medication to take the edge off this, not a gentle massage.” 

He didn’t want to tell her that there were sharp pains as well as the constant ache in every muscle across his back and down the backs of his legs. What he really needed was for Jack to rub in some of that muscle liniment. The thought of lying face down with Jack straddling his waist and kneading his back with those large, warm hands made him moan involuntarily.

“Oh sweetheart, it must be really hurting badly.” Gwen cooed in comfort as she misinterpreted the sigh for a groan of pain.

“Yeah well, it does a bit,” Ianto admitted. “Come on – we seem to be getting closer to where that smoke’s coming from.”

As they got to the top of the hill, the trees were less dense, so that they had a view into the valley below. There was a clearing in the middle distance, a fence of sharpened wooden stakes surrounded an enclosure of some sort and inside there were several round huts, their tall roofs made of some type of thatch and smoke seemed to be coming through the hatch itself, drifting up in lazy spirals. Ianto wished he had his binoculars with him, but squinting into the setting sun he could just make out people moving from one hut to another, carrying baskets and pots.

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Ianto with relief. “I know exactly where we are.”

“Where are we, Ianto? Because I’m telling you now that it’s not looking like anywhere in South Wales.”

“On the contrary, yes, it is, Gwen. I’ve seen this place in the brochures in the Tourist Office.” Ianto was grateful for the fact that they were no longer lost. “It’s Castell Henllys, an Iron Age village project. Not far from Cardigan.”

“How the hell did we end up this far from Cardiff?”

“I have no idea, must have had something to do with that alien device.” Ianto shrugged and then regretted it. “From what I recall they do have facilities there for visitors, which means phones and –”

“Loos!” Gwen grinned. Although Ianto had been the perfect gentleman, she’d felt awkward asking him to act as look-out when she’d had to crouch behind a hawthorn shrub to have a pee.

“I was thinking of a coffee shop maybe,” Ianto replied with a smile. “We could get something to eat and drink while we’re waiting for Jack to pick us up.”

“Thank goodness for that, I’m starving. Didn’t have time for breakfast. What about you?” 

Ianto smiled and chose to pretend not to hear what Gwen was really asking. He wasn’t going to let her know how he and Jack had shared breakfast.

“If they have a café, breakfast’s on me.”

Ianto frowned as soon as he considered breakfast, because it was apparent that the sun was setting. It occurred to him that they must have been unconscious for a lot longer than he’d thought.

“I hope you’ve not lost your wallet then.”

Their moods had lightened somewhat, having spotted signs of civilisation and they were in better spirits as they ducked under low growing branches and stumbled through the thicket of densely growing shrubs and trees.

“Ianto – what makes you so convinced it will be Jack that comes out to collect us? It might be Owen, or Tosh maybe.”

“No, it will be Jack – trust me.” Ianto stated with absolute conviction. “He won’t be able to resist the chance of coming to our rescue.”


	5. Chapter 5

They had acquired another mobile phone by offering the taxi driver another suitably impressive roll of banknotes. Jack decided it would be better if Tosh took Gwen’s phone, just in case Rhys chose to call his wife. The last thing they needed was for him to want to get involved. Owen took the driver’s phone. It was agreed that once Tosh and Owen had dealt with their designated tasks they were to meet up before returning to the Hub and that they implement the relevant protocols for infiltration situations. Jack made it clear that no unnecessary risks were to be taken on his behalf.

Tosh was the first to be dropped off and as she stood in the lift, travelling to the floor where the servers were situated, she felt her anger at John Hart building. He had attacked them once before, hurting her and nearly killing both Owen and Gwen. If he had caused any harm to come to either Ianto or Gwen she wouldn’t be taken in by the cute cheekbones this time, she would shoot to inflict maximum pain and a future of celibacy. Taking a deep breath as the lift doors slid open, she resolved to get the servers stabilised and get back to the Hub as soon as humanly possible. That’s where he’d probably taken her friends.

She looked around at the clusters of servers, grouped according to the organisations they supported. She could see flashing lights indicating system alerts on the servers for the specific military bases where they knew that advanced weaponry was secretly being stored, the police, the NHS and those for the nuclear power station at Turnmill. The first and the last would have to be her main priorities.

As Tosh began to work in the red-lit stacks, the eerie silence was disturbed by a ghostly howl. She was reminded of the reports of ghosts and turned in time to see three figures in monastic robes, each carrying a deadly looking scythe. They stood at the far end of the room, but looked ready to move towards her.

“Devil! Blasphemer!”

“Pray to your heathen God. While in the Lord’s name, we cast you out!”

Tosh sighed, singularly unimpressed. She had seen scarier phantoms trick-or-treating in Cardiff. Without hesitation, she drew her gun from the pocket of her leather coat and in three successive shots, aimed with deadly accuracy, despatched the threat forthwith. Jack’s weapon training had made as indelible impression on her as on everyone else that had been the recipient. She could almost hear his voice in her ear as she had squeezed the trigger.

“Sorted.” 

Returning to the damaged servers, Tosh manually rerouted the functions to secondary servers and then swore as the remote servers for the Turnmill Station failed to come back online. She imagined that the emergency systems at the power station would have come into effect the moment the central servers crashed, but if there was another surge of rift activity there was always the risk of the reactor suffering a coolant system failure and subsequent meltdown. She did the only thing that made any sense and patched a call through to the technicians at Turnmill, alerting them of the danger and prompting them to commence emergency shutdown. Although it would leave the city in darkness with limited power, it would avert the danger of a catastrophic meltdown. That was a job for the experts, there was no way she’d want to step on their toes. 

She called Owen to let him know, at least he could give the hospital advance warning so that they could cancel any non-essential surgical procedures and be prepared with back-up generators. 

Then she set to work restoring as many of the servers as she could, determined to be outside the building waiting for Owen within the hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owen thanked Tosh for the heads up and cut the connection as he saw the Registrar walking angrily towards him, apparently infuriated to hear that Torchwood had taken control of the ‘situation’. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? I made it perfectly clear there are procedures -”

“Dr Owen Harper and with all due respect, sir, I don’t give a toss about procedures – I’m going to go see what you’ve got in the basement and then I suggest you implement whatever fucking procedures you have in place for major power outage. Just to let you know, Turnmill is initiating emergency shut down even as I speak. You’ve got time yet to deal with it, getting your emergency generators online and life support units dealt with, that really ought to be your priority, sir.” 

Owen couldn’t help but sneer as he tapped his watch and asked the nearest porter to direct him to the location of the disturbance.

The registrar of St Helens Hospital spluttered indignantly before demanding that his PA find out what the hell was going on. Owen smiled as he heard orders being yelled out, followed by the sounds of running feet, as all personnel on duty began to put into place their training for such situations. There were occasions when multiple training drills in the NHS actually paid off. 

The porter patted him on the back and grinned briefly before leading Owen down the service stairs into the basement. Owen was anxious to get back to the Hub and wanted to deal with the weevil or whatever it was quickly. After being shot once by John Hart, he didn’t trust the bastard and he thought Jack was an idiot going back there to face him on his own. Just because Jack couldn’t stay dead, didn’t mean he was equipped to take on a homicidal lunatic single-handed.

It was claustrophobic in the basement, with various utility pipes and electrical cabling running along the walls and ceiling. The lights were dim, but Owen could make out the figure of a tall woman waiting nervously outside a door, peering through the small glass window.

“Hello, I’m Dr Owen Harper and you are?”

“Dr Angela Connolly – you’re Torchwood then?”

“Yeah, for my sins. What happened then?”

“I was coming back from a fag break, saw the door open and there it is! Chewing through the cables. So, I locked it in.”

Owen tapped on the window and before he could ask what she had locked in, a series of rattling noises preceded the creature making its own introduction in the form of bared teeth at the window. Objectively, the doctors could see that the teeth were large, serrated, evidently sharp and in need of some orthodontic work. Subjectively they were the scariest set of teeth that either of them would probably ever see and they both leapt back from the door at the same time.

“What the hell is it?” demanded Connolly.

“Short answer, it’s an alien.” Owen looked her in the eye as if daring her to challenge him.

“Alien?”

“Yeah. It’s called a Hoix. The only profile we have is that it lives to eat, doesn’t matter what. Caught one in Barry last year in a kebab shop, it went through a whole doner stick in less than ten minutes. Now, have you got the keys?”

“What’s that you’ve got there?” 

As she handed over the keys, Conolly pointed at the absurdly large syringe that Owen had pulled from a pocket of his scruffy, dusty leather jacket. He looked as if he had spent the day working with a demolition crew.

“All species sedative. Now, food. You got anything it can eat?”

“Only these.” 

The doctor sheepishly held out her packet of cigarettes.

“Right, perfect!” Owen said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes and accepted the offering. “Wish me luck.”

Owen unlocked the door and slipped into the darkened room.

“Hoixie, where are you? Come on, porkie. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

A snarling growl announced the approach of the creature from behind a storage unit and before it could get any closer, Owen tossed the cigarettes in its direction.

“There you are. Look what I’ve got. They’re actually very tasty. Get a load of one of these. That’s it, good boy, come to me. Come on, that’s it, try one of these.” 

As soon as the Hoix bent down to inspect the small white cylinders, Owen stabbed it in the back of the neck with the sedative. 

“You really are quite stupid, aren’t you?”

Pulling the door shut behind him, Owen grimaced as he locked the sedated Hoix in the basement room. They could come back and deal with that later. Now he needed to find Tosh and get to Jack.

He pulled the phone from the pocket of his jeans and called Gwen’s number.

“Owen, thank God it’s you. I can’t get out of the building. The streets are flooded with weevils, they came out of nowhere. There’s no chance we’ll get back to the Hub.” 

“Tosh, leave it to me. I can get there. I’ll come find you first.”

“How?” 

“King of the Weevils, remember?” 

If there had to be a perk to being dead, being the object of worship to the weevil community of Cardiff wouldn’t have been Owen’s first choice, but it came in useful when the alternative was being torn to pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark by the time that Gwen and Ianto finally reached the outskirts of the village. The terrain had been much harder going than either of them had expected, neither of them was dressed for hiking cross country and Ianto’s back injuries had been taking their toll. The pain had become persistent, which slowed their progress down even more. Gwen chose not to ask him how he was, deciding instead to rely on stolen glances and overheard gasps for breath to tell her the truth. She was worried by the fact that there were beads of sweat on his brow despite the air having become quite chilly since the sun had set. 

“We should be able to see the access road by now, shouldn’t we, Ianto?”

“It’s unlit I think, but we should have seen or heard traffic by now I’d have thought. Oh God, I hope this isn’t anything to do with those explosions. Perhaps there were more and they were more widespread.” 

Ianto hoped that Jack was alright and that whatever had been responsible for the bombs had been dealt with by now. He was also concerned about Tosh, wondering if she’d been badly hurt in the explosion or maybe transported across Wales like they had been. The sooner they got to a phone the better. Ianto hated not knowing what was going on.

They eventually came across a trampled pathway through the trees and followed it carefully. There was just enough moonlight, that escaped from behind dark brooding clouds, for them to avoid stumbling on the scattered rocks. 

“Shh! I think I hear voices.” Ianto held out his arm stopping Gwen in her tracks.

Listening carefully, they could hear quiet whisperings ahead, but it wasn’t possible to make out any words. After a short while Gwen snapped her head round to look at Ianto as she mouthed the word: Welsh? Ianto nodded in confirmation, although he was frowning, there was something off about the intonation and the accent.

“Hello?” Gwen called out softly.

There were figures in the pathway now visible to them. Shorter than either of them, so much so that Gwen thought that maybe they were adolescents instead of adults. Unfortunately, the clouds had thickened once more so that they were unable to make out anything other than silhouettes. They were dressed in loose-fitting, baggy clothes which struck her as odd for that particular age group.

“Hello there. My name’s Gwen. I was wondering if you could help us. We need to get to a phone-”

Gwen gasped as the moon came out from behind the clouds once more, the light catching on the gleaming spearheads that were advancing in their direction. The faces of the individuals were now illuminated enough to show that they weren’t children and the expressions on them made it clear that they weren’t inclined to offer assistance. 

Gwen reached out to Ianto, comforted to find his hand grabbing hold of hers firmly.

“Oh fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where are Gwen and Ianto?   
> I might post the next chapter tomorrow ...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter today, to set the scene for what's to come.

As soon as Jack approached the cog door, he could hear that John was already there. He could hear the sounds of someone crashing around, accompanied by music blasting out. Taking a deep breath, he rushed through as soon as the door rolled open.

John was standing on one of the upper level walkways, waving a scarf above his head and grinning like an idiot as the strains of ‘I lost my heart to a star ship trooper’ reverberated off the walls. 

“Come on! Sing along! It’s our song!” yelled out John.

“We don’t have a song. And if we did have a song, it wouldn’t be this song.” 

Jack scowled. Even when he was in a partnership with John this wouldn’t have amused him and in his current frame of mind it tempted him to shoot the other man in the kneecaps. Fortunately, John read his mood, let the scarf fall to the ground and pouted petulantly.

“You’re no fun,” John retorted as he raised his hand and flipped open his wrist band to switch off the music.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been here quite a while, what kept you?” John started to saunter down the metallic stairs towards Jack. 

“Someone stole the car. We had to get a taxi-”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch – that’s all you seem to do these days,” John interrupted, shrugging with contempt. He glanced around Jack, pretending to check that he was by himself. “Anyway, you seem to be alone this time. How are they all? The little team? The significantly smaller team?”

“What have you done with them?” demanded Jack, riled by John’s knowing grin. “Where are Ianto and Gwen?” 

Jack was losing patience with whatever game John Hart was playing and wanted answers. He had half hoped to find Ianto and Gwen tied up as hostages, with John hovering nearby issuing demands. The lack of any sign of them was beginning to awaken his worst fears. 

“Why? Have you lost them? That was careless.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“What do I want?” John’s face became serious, an earnest expression that took Jack by surprise. “I want you to know that I love you.”

“Funny way of showing it.” 

Jack really, really hadn’t been expecting that answer. John had never once said those words and for him to say them now, after his recently stated intentions of destroying everything that Jack cared for, sounded alarm bells loud and clear. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“No, seriously. You have to understand.” John turned away, hoping that his warning would get through, that Jack would pick up on his uncharacteristic declarations of affection. The fact that he actually meant what he was saying was another matter. “I really do love you.”

John picked up two machine guns that had been placed on one of the work stations, swung around, gritting his teeth, and fired them both at Jack. The recoil slammed into his shoulders but he didn’t stop until Jack was riddled with bullet holes. He watched as the man he claimed to love toppled back into the pool of water at the base of the water tower, his shredded shirt soaked in blood. 

John leaned over to Jack’s body, the eyes empty as they stared up at him, and quietly spoke words of regret.

“Like I said, you’ve gotta understand - this is gonna get nasty.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen held on tightly to Ianto’s hand. He slid his other hand slowly into his jacket pocket hoping, on the off chance, that there may have been something in there he could use as a weapon, but he already knew there wouldn’t be anything. When he’d got to his feet after recovering consciousness, the first thing he’d done up was to pat down his pockets, hoping to find his phone or his stun gun. However, digging down deeper, he found something unfamiliar lodged into the bottom of the pocket. It was a ring of some sort. The metal felt warm and without thinking, Ianto slid it onto his ring finger and was surprised to find that it fit perfectly and then seemed to constrict as if tightening around the finger itself. Although he had no idea where it came from, it occurred to him that there was an outside chance it had something to do with their transportation to wherever it was that they now found themselves and if that was the case, it might help them get home. Then again, he just might have watched ‘Lord of the Rings’ too many times. His random thoughts were cast aside when he realised that Gwen was talking.

“Hello there. That’s very good that costume, very convincing. You scared the shit out of me.” Gwen was using the voice she saved for trying to negotiate with the dangerously unstable – overly friendly and delivered with a broad smile. “So how about we laugh this off back at the main office, or wherever, over a nice cup of tea. Hey? How about it?” 

Gwen cajoled as best she could, smiling openly and holding up her free hand, wiggling her fingers to show she was not hiding anything.

“No, Gwen … Gwen…” Ianto rolled his eyes, urgently whispering, hoping that she would shut up before they both ended up skewered.

One of the stockier men came closer and asked them something, the tone of his voice unambiguously aggressive. The language he spoke bore a close resemblance to Welsh, but the dialect was dense and the vocalisation harsh. Ianto could smell wood smoke and animal fat on the ragged skins that the man was wearing and, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realised that unless they gave an acceptable response they would be perceived as enemies. 

“Welsh, Gwen. Speak to them in Welsh,” hissed Ianto and then addressed the man as calmly as he could: “Noswaith dda.”

“Helô?” attempted Gwen, thinking that it might be better just to say hello, rather than being quite so formal as Ianto had been in wishing potential assailants a ‘good evening’.

“Mae’n dda gen i’ch cyfarfod chi,” added Ianto, holding out his hand in greeting.

Ianto regretted his choice of greeting as soon as he felt the blow to the back of his legs, felling him to his knees. Neither he nor Gwen had heard the stealthy approach of another group of men that had crept out of the woods and moved up behind them.

“Nice job, Ianto,” grumbled Gwen, falling against him as she was pushed to the ground. “What were you thinking of, saying ‘nice to meet you’?”

“I was trying to be polite.” 

Ianto decided not to explain that he was unfamiliar with the correct protocol for asking a Celtic warrior not to impale him on a spear. Although it occurred to him that Jack would know.

“What the hell’s going on?” called out Gwen anxiously as Ianto was pulled away from her.

“I don’t know for sure, but for now I’m thinking that discretion really is the better part of valour,” replied Ianto in warning, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t try anything reckless. 

They were both pushed face down into the ground, their arms pulled behind their backs and their wrists bound with tight cords. Ianto was hauled to his feet first and Gwen watched in horror as he was roughly pushed forward. He wasn’t struggling, but taking into account the fact that their captors were armed to the teeth with spears and knives, Gwen could appreciate that Ianto’s approach was the one most likely to keep them relatively unharmed. 

When the men motioned for Gwen to get up, she was surprised that they seemed unwilling to touch her, she was just prodded with the tips of the spears to prompt her to move in the right direction. The situation reminded her, unpleasantly, of the cannibals in the Brecon Beacons. She really hoped that memories of that experience weren’t bothering Ianto as well. Meanwhile, her thoughts kept returning to Jack, wondering where he was when he was meant to be charging in to rescue them. She was of the opinion that, even though they were Jack’s forte, dramatic last minute rescues were overrated. She suspected that Ianto would agree with her.


	7. Chapter 7

When Jack eventually came back to life, panic set in when he realised he couldn’t take his usual deep gasp of air to re-inflate his lungs. His arms were stretched out to his sides and his feet dangled beneath him, not touching the ground. He struggled in vain finding himself chained to the wall of the Hub by his wrists. Jack’s clothes were damp and, looking down at his blood-soaked shirt, he had no choice but to accept the fact that his ex had killed him for the second time in as many hours. He really wished that John had never found out about his inability to stay dead; it had been bad enough when the Master had exercised his sadistic tendencies for an entire year, but this was different. This was personal. 

Propped up against the opposite wall, John had been waiting for Jack to revive and was fascinated to observe the actual process. If only he could have persuaded his ex-lover to leave this pathetic backwater and join him the last time, they could have been spared all this. That resurrection trick would have been brilliant for playing the best cons ever. But, oh no, he had to be noble and stay put with his bloody team. John reckoned that the selfish bastard would, literally, be the death of them all. It occurred to him, that he’d be doing team Torchwood a favour if he took their precious Captain Jack Harkness away from them, it would definitely increase their average life expectancies. 

Sighing to himself, John knew it was too late for that plan. Any chance that team Torchwood had of getting out of this in one piece evaporated the moment psycho bunny Gray had realised that Jack had favourites. John hoped, for his own sake, that Eye Candy didn’t lose that bloody ring. 

However, seeing that Jack was alive again, reminded John that it was time for business and he knew he was being watched carefully. The way his modified wrist strap pulled on his skin made him painfully aware of Gray’s continued surveillance of his every move. He made a show of wandering across to stand right in front of Jack, unsurprised to find that he still found it quite a turn on watching the muscular body, that he’d once known so intimately, thrashing around desperate to get free.

“This is a little extreme, don’t you think?” Jack’s eyes were burning as he glared at John and then at his arms.

“Oh, what, suddenly you’re anti bondage?” John couldn’t resist reaching out and squeezing Jack’s balls for old time’s sake. He didn’t fail to notice Jack’s growl of displeasure. When they’d been stuck in that five-year time loop, they would have both got a kick out of a similar set up.

“Why are you here?” Jack demanded.

“Well, see... now you’re interested in me. It’s always the same, nobody cares until you tie them up,” John drawled, running a finger along one of Jack’s arms until he reached the chain. “Number of reasons, actually. First of all, you were very rude to me.” 

John turned away from his prey and walked a few steps towards one of the banks of computers. To him, they were primitive, but he still remembered his lessons in using archaic technology. 

“What?!” Jack could not believe that John was doing this because his feelings had been hurt. For a start, Jack wasn’t sure that he possessed any, let alone permitted them to be affected by other people.

“Very rude indeed. In front of people who barely knew me,” John continued, bitterly. “You belittled me. Can’t let that go.” 

“You’re serious?” Jack frowned. Although, as he paused to consider the situation, it did seem feasible that John’s fragile ego had been bruised by his blatant rejection of the man in favour of his team and his commitments on Earth.

“Second - you have all of time. Eternity, essentially. And you still refused to spend time with me. After all we’ve been through together. After all I’ve done for you.”

Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Their relationship had always been one concerned with mutual pleasure and the fact that you had to trust your partner in the Time Agency with your life, however insane they proved to be. Again, something did not ring true. This was not the hard-drinking, hedonistic, murderous bastard with the tight ass and angelic face that he’d once been insanely attracted to. John was hiding something.

“You didn’t tell me. Where are Ianto and Gwen? Are they OK? And while we’re at it where’s Gray? Do you really know where he is?”

Jack was willing to believe that the claim to have located Gray was a lie intended to ensnare him, just in case the kidnapping of the two members of his team wasn’t enough. But that look in John’s eyes said it all – Jack knew how to read him, and he saw the barely imperceptible flinch as soon as he mentioned his brother’s name.

“What’ve you done with my brother?”

John stared at him as if wondering what the hell to say. Jack’s expression was begging for the truth and that was not something that John could deliver. 

“You don’t realise. Actions. Ramifications. Ripples in the pond.” John huffed, wondering when Jack would start to read between the lines and figure out that he wasn’t calling the shots. “It’s beyond my control.”

“Beyond your control?” exclaimed Jack. “Please!”

“Brother?” a new voice called out from the other side of the Hub.

Both Jack and John snapped their heads around to see the boyish figure appear from one of the lower levels. He was wearing the same outfit as he had been in the hologram image. The all-purpose desert gear of the Boeshane Peninsula. Jack’s mouth fell open in shock. However, John bit his lip with annoyance at Gray changing the game play yet again.

“Gray?” Jack’s voice broke with emotion.

Gray walked slowly towards Jack, as if not believing what he was seeing. 

“I never stopped believing,” said Gray looking up at Jack, his eyes wide and doleful. He reached up and wrapped his arms around the body of his long-lost brother. “I always knew we’d find each other again,”

John stood well back, rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, but apparently, Jack did.

“What has he done to you?” demanded Jack, glaring in John’s direction. 

“He helped me find you, brother.” 

Gray was smiling – a sweet smile. So sweet that John felt nauseous. He couldn’t believe that Jack was falling for it – it was one of the most wooden performances he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” muttered Jack, between sobs wrenched from his chest. 

Jack was yet again wracked with guilt for having let go of his little brother’s hand as they’d fled from attack, that day when his family had been so violently torn apart. He breathed in and smelt the familiar scent that he’d never forgotten, one that conjured up memories of pale sands, grassy dunes and crashing waves. 

There was another smell though - John’s – his pheromones were all over Gray, he stunk of them. The horrific implications of that were only just beginning to sink in, along with an even greater hatred for John, when he caught the change in Gray’s facial expressions. His wide-open eyes narrowed and within them shone a glint of pure malice as he placed one hand firmly on Jack’s shoulder. The eager smile twisted into a bitter sneer as he moved back a step.

“Sorry’s not good enough.” 

From out of a carefully concealed scabbard, Gray drew a sword and gleefully ran it through Jack’s body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto stared at the sword that was pressed against his sternum and tried not to make any sudden moves, which he decided included breathing. It was abundantly clear that he had failed to convince their hosts that they were harmless. He watched on helplessly as Gwen was led away and hoped that she’d take note of what he’d said to her; Jack wouldn’t forgive him if anything happened to her. He managed to catch her eye before the darkness swallowed her up and nodded slightly as if to say ‘it will be OK’, even though they were both finding it hard to hold onto that last shred of hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen was taken into one of the roundhouses, it was quite small, but at least it was relatively warm inside. There was a central, stone-lined hearth upon which branches of wood smouldered and crackled. The air was thick with the smells of body odour, cooking aromas and wet dogs. As her eyes became accustomed to the poor lighting she could make out the figures of several women. They all had dark, curly hair pulled away from their faces and they were all shorter than she was. She noted that they all appeared to be either much younger or far older than she was and although she could have taken on any one of them individually, she didn’t rate her chances against a group of them. Apart from anything else, it was dark outside, she was desperately hungry and by co-operating there was a chance that she might actually be fed and then she’d try to escape once it was daylight again.

She hadn’t counted on being forced to remove every piece of clothing she was wearing. Item by item, it was picked over with fascination. Her leather jacket was sniffed and rubbed as they handed it around looking puzzled, as if they didn’t quite recognise the animal it had come from. All the remaining articles of clothing were gathered up on what looked like a roughly woven tartan blanket, bundled up and taken away. She was left wearing just her bra and knickers. Gwen sat shivering on the ground, trying to ignore pointed instructions to remove them. It was only when a knife was slipped under the strap between her shoulder blades and the elastic sliced through with a snap that she had to give in. She was given a rough woollen dress to put on – shapeless and of indeterminate colour. As she pulled it on over her head and stood still to allow a narrow strap to be tied around her waist she saw, out of the corner of her eye, one of the older women spit on her red knickers and bra before pushing them into the fire with a long stick. 

_Marks and Spencer’s undies condemned as evil – who’d have thought?_

The facetious thought that came to mind was a defence against facing the reality of the situation. To all intents and purposes, it seemed as if they had been taken by the Rift and dumped in what looked like the Iron Age. Either that or some back-to-nature community that had rejected all modern conveniences.

Gwen was then shoved towards the wattle and daub outer wall and made to sit down. Her hands were tied in front of her and a length of rope attached to the cords and tied to a post driven into the ground. After a while one of the younger women approached her, and although Gwen tried to smile and make eye contact, her efforts were in vain as the girl refused to look up at her. The girl carefully placed a bowl containing some opaque liquid on the dusty floor, along with a lump of decidedly stale looking bread. Gwen lifted the beaker to her lips with both hands and took a tentative sip of what seemed to be a watery type of porridge, some sort of gruel she thought. It tasted bland and slightly sour as if it had begun to go off, but she was hungry and realised that something to eat was better than nothing. She hoped that Ianto was alright and that they were feeding him as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Ianto was not faring as well. He had also been divested of his clothes in a manner that caused him to promise never to accuse Jack of disrespecting his suits ever again. If he ever had the chance that was. He thought ruefully that Jack would hate the outfit they’d given him to wear. They both liked fabrics with a sensual feel and the scratchy woollen trousers and coarsely woven tunic failed on so many levels. He really hoped the itchiness was because of the fabric and not due to fleas or lice. However, that thought just made the itching worse than ever. 

Apparently, the fact that his body was covered in bruises and abrasions had convinced their captors that he was a warrior and as he hadn’t been dressed as they were, they assumed he was from another tribe and probably an enemy. As soon as they had searched him for weapons and got him to dress in the garments he now wore, he had been dragged to a small storage hut. The leather bindings about his wrists were secured to a rope that was looped about the central post. 

Ianto curled on his side. His back was hurting like hell and the cold, damp earth beneath him wasn’t helping. It was almost totally dark and he could barely make out fuzzy outlines in the scant light that filtered in through the thatched roof above his head. Closing his eyes, he heard scuffling noises, like tiny scampering feet. He gulped as he realised he was sharing his accommodation with rodents, hopefully just mice, but possibly rats. He just hoped that Gwen was alright.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the Hub...

The sight that met Jack’s eyes as he snapped them open wasn’t one that he’d been expecting. Although he wasn’t surprised to see Gray standing close, watching him avidly, he hadn’t anticipated seeing his brother’s arm draped over John’s shoulders, his fingers clenched around a handful of the red, military jacket. That would explain the scent of John’s pheromones that lingered on Gray like an invisible cloak. 

However, what troubled Jack most was the fact that John looked uncomfortable with the arrangement, the way his lips were pressed tightly together told him all he needed to know. John looked as if he was resisting the urge to push the other man away from him. Yet again, Jack sensed that something was wrong. He just needed to buy enough time to find out what it was.

“I looked for you. I searched for you for years,” explained Jack, genuinely wanting to impress on Gray that he hadn’t given up on him. “You were my first thought, every day.”

“What are you expecting, hmm?” snarled Gray in response. “A loving reunion? Absolution? Me to say, ‘It’s OK, brother, I forgive you’?"

Jack was taken aback by the scorn dripping from every word along with the look of absolute loathing that distorted those features that were so achingly familiar.

“Those creatures? They lived to torture. They kept us just on the verge of life. I’d lie there, hemmed in by corpses, praying to become one. Because you - you. Let. Go. Of My. Hand. Remember?”

Gray bit out the words one by one, glaring at Jack the whole time he reiterated his accusations of guilt at the brother who had left him behind.

“If I could have swapped with you, I would.” 

Jack could only guess at the torment his little brother had gone through and his heart ached to see what it had done to him. It had scarred his soul permanently, leaving him bitter and resentful, full of hatred and spite. It wasn’t his brother anymore, he was facing a damaged remnant of the boy who he’d once laughed and played with as a child.

“I believed you’d come, but you never did. How long before you gave up, hmm? Months? Years? Decades?”

“What do you want from me?” begged Jack, prepared to do whatever it took to make up for having let go of his brother’s hand.

Flashbacks of that fateful day flooded through his mind. Running and shouting, calling out for Gray, confessing to his mother over the body of his beloved father, that he didn’t know where Gray was, that they’d become separated as they’d run for their lives. That moment was carved deeply into his soul and no matter how many times he died, how many lives he lived, it still haunted Jack.

“I want you to suffer. I want to take your life and destroy it.” 

The vitriol in Gray’s quietly spoken declaration was sharp and clear, leaving Jack in no illusions as to just how much his brother wanted vengeance. 

“But as you can’t die I’ll settle for taking away everything you’ve got, all you hold dear and tearing it to shreds. John’s told me all about the Rift here – we’re going to open it up to wreak devastation on this community that you couldn’t tear yourself away from and let them blame you. As for your little team-”

“What have you done with them?” 

Although Jack no longer cared what Gray did to him, he felt he deserved it, he was afraid for his team. Especially for Ianto and Gwen. 

“Ah, you mean the two that you couldn’t find? The pretty ones? What were they like?”

“They’re my friends. Whatever it is you’ve got against me, they had nothing to do with it – let them go!”

“What d’you think, John?” Gray made a show of whispering in John’s ear. “Maybe I should go and try them out for myself – find out just what it is that turns my beloved brother on.”

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on either of them!” growled Jack, pulling once more at the chains that held him in place.

“Jack, you really shouldn’t say things like that, it only makes him worse. Trust me.” John winced, wishing he could warn Jack off giving his brother any more ammunition with which to attack him.

“That’s alright – I don’t intend to make a habit of screwing my brother’s seconds,” chuckled Gray, a vicious gleam in his eyes as he squeezed John’s shoulder. “You were an exception, John.”

“Where are they?” asked Jack, pleading for information. “Please just tell me they’re safe.”

“Not telling you. I’ve hidden them,” Gray grinned like a child that was playing a mischievous game. “Somewhere you’ll never find them.”

“Gray, I know they were injured in the explosion. They may need medical attention.” Jack tried reasoning with Gray, even though he suspected his efforts would be in vain. “Come on, where did you hide them?”

“Not so much a where, as a when,” Gray laughed softly, enjoying his own joke. “About 2000 years back in time, give or take a century. Does that sound right John?”

“Yeah, about then.” John had the grace to look vaguely apologetic in response to Jack’s look of horror. “Sorry, Jack, but you know what it’s like, these impromptu time jumps, who knows when you’ll end up –”

“No, you couldn’t have-” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “John, tell me you didn’t -”

“Hey - it wasn’t my idea. The original plan was to dump you in the past - your brother thought it would be fun to bury you alive and leave you there. That was until he figured out that it might be more fun to split up your gang instead.”

Gray grinned as he saw realisation dawn on Jack’s face. The object of his deep seated loathing was powerless to help those he cared for most and that hurt him more than anything Gray could do to him directly. 

“John – I’ve a little bit of unfinished business to deal with,” muttered Gray as he released John from his hold. “I take it I can trust you to start off the next stage on your own?”

“Yeah, about that. When are you going to let me get rid of this?” John held out his arm, pulling back his sleeve and pointing at his wrist band. “I kept my side of the deal. What more do you want?”

“When I get back –” 

“Where are you going? Gray?” Jack interrupted, beginning to panic at the thought of his brother causing any further injury to any of his team. “What are you doing? Please –”

“I really love hearing you beg, brother. Now listen carefully. I’ve recorded our conversation here,” explained Gray slowly as he tapped the wrist strap he was wearing. “I’m going back to make sure that your friends know exactly where they are and why – I want them to know who’s to blame for the fact that they’re going to be left to rot and die in the distant past.” 

Gray smirked as he saw the pain in Jack’s eyes.

“You can mend this, Gray – bring them back,” pleaded Jack. “We can make this right-”

“Too late. Just think. Deep under this city’s foundations are their bones. They’ve been dead for thousands of years. Torn apart from all their friends and family, all because you let that happen to me.”

“No! What can I do?” demanded Jack, prepared to offer to do anything. “I’ll leave here – go with you both, wherever you want me to go. Make me suffer, but not them.”

“See, I was right, John – one of them was definitely his bed mate. I bet it was the woman. If she didn’t starve to death I’m sure the locals would have enjoyed playing with her first. Or maybe it was the pretty boy– I wouldn’t rate his chances then either, armless and injured he wouldn’t have lasted long in a fight.” 

Jack let out an involuntary groan of despair. His brother had confirmed to him that it was Ianto who was injured. He wondered how badly he was hurt. 

“We seem to have hit the jackpot there,” grinned Gray, delighted at seeing Jack’s reactions to his taunts. “It looks to me like you care for them more than your own flesh and blood, brother dear. Maybe I’ll go find them and take them to the Boeshane Peninsula, make sure they’re in time for the attacks.”

“No! No! You can’t do that!” Jack tugged at the chains holding him in place, rattling them violently desperate to put a stop to his brother’s insanity.

“Much as I’d love to send you to hell, seeing as your actions condemned me to living through it, you’d only bounce back, you bastard.” Looking up from the vortex manipulator, Gray paused, his eyes shining with a fervour that scared Jack. “In exchange, I could make sure your loved ones get to enjoy the experience in your place.”

“No!!!”

Despite Jack’s screams, Gray disappeared in a halo of golden light.

“Where the hell did he get a vortex manipulator?” Jack rattled his manacles with anger and frustration.

“I gave it to him. It’s stolen,” explained John, almost regretfully. “You have to understand, when I found him I couldn’t believe my luck, especially after you disappeared like you did. I thought that you’d come back to me, forgive me maybe if you knew I’d found your brother for you.” 

“You son of a bitch –”

“But oh no – you had to be all holier-than fucking thou with me!” yelled John, furious that his scheme to get Jack back had gone so spectacularly wrong. “All you had to do was come with me when I found you in this pit. We could have dealt with him then between us. But no, you had to tell me to piss off. Had to humiliate me in front of your sodding little team – well fuck you, you brought this on yourself!”

“John – it’s not too late, go after him! Make him stop. I’ll go with you… anything!” suggested Jack, desperately. He knew he had to do whatever it took to get to Ianto and Gwen before Gray did. “Come on, take us back there now before this gets out of control.”

“Out of control?” sneered John. “This train went off the tracks the day you left him behind. Now, shut the fuck up and listen. I haven’t got long. While he’s two thousand years in the past I’m out of range of the trigger signal.” 

“What?” Jack frowned as John strode angrily towards him.

John peeled back his sleeve to allow Jack a closer look at his wrist – the strap appeared fused to it, the edges reddened and sore looking.

“Look at it! Go on. It’s bonded to my skin. I can’t get it off.”

John flipped open the cover to show Jack what was hidden beneath.

“Whoa!” Jack instantly recognised the device that wasn’t meant to be there.

“You can say that again – it’s a ninth generation detonator.”

“You’re a walking bomb!”

“Not for the first time, and it’s really pissing me off. That’s the last time I let myself get so drunk I end up getting screwed by a psychopath, however pretty his mouth is. And don’t give me that look! It’s not like I took advantage of him, seeing as I’m the one with a fucking bomb stuck to my arm!” 

John couldn’t help but think that there had been a time when they’d have shared a cute looking kid, far from home, at a space station. But the look on Jack’s face made it quite clear that those days were long gone. 

“Anyway, add to that a surveillance circuit, to monitor my every word and action, and he has me doing anything I’m told. ’Cos if I don’t... boom! I’m not my own man. I thought you’d see that. But oh, no, you’re so self-obsessed you thought I’d want to blow up your stupid city and kill your pathetic team! Really? When I could be experiencing seventeen simultaneous pleasures in the Lotus Nebula?”

“You could’ve told me. We’ve equipment here that could remove that.” 

Jack now understood what had been going on with John, but his mind still couldn’t come to terms with how vindictive his brother had become.

“He’ll be back soon, so if you don’t mind I’ve got work to do.” John had salved his conscience as far as he was concerned. He’d explained that none of this was his fault. 

“You don’t have to do what he wants you to-” Jack was pleading once more. 

“What part of being ‘blown up if I don’t’ didn’t you understand? Bloody hell, that twisted fuck of a brother of yours means what he says. As soon as I can get rid of this thing, I’m outta here and he’s all yours. I’d recommend a good rehab centre if I knew one, but I don’t. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

Turning his back on Jack, John stormed across to Tosh’s computer and entered the commands necessary to countermand the security codes. He then moved purposefully towards the main rift manipulator.

“OK, so, we just need to localise the rift storms, a few short sharp shocks...” mumbled John to himself.

“Don’t touch those controls!” yelled Jack, as soon as he figured out what John had in mind. 

“Oi, I’m working here!” John tapped a control on his wrist strap and stood back to watch the effects of the electric current as it coursed through the steel manacles, sparking as it caused Jack’s body to convulse in pain.

“If you don’t want that again, keep quiet.”

“No!” 

“Just need a bit more power,” muttered John as he grabbed hold of a thick cable and plugged it into a socket on the side of the rift manipulator. He grinned as the central column began to move.

“Hey!” Jack panicked as he recalled what had happened when the rift manipulator had last been interfered with and he could only imagine the carnage that John and Gray intended to release on the city of Cardiff.

“And we’re all set.” 

John’s face was grim, as if part of him enjoyed the mayhem he was about to unleash, whilst there was part of him that didn’t want to cause Jack this much pain after all.

“Whatever you’re planning, we’re gonna stop you.” 

Jack really didn’t know at that moment who he meant by ‘we’, as his team was currently fragmented in time and space for all he knew. 

“Oh. OK. Go on, then. Stop me. I hope you can, really.” 

John was staring intently at Jack as he uttered these words, focused so much that he was unaware of anything else at all. That was until he heard the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked.

“Jack can’t, but we can.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2000 years in the past ...

Ianto had barely slept. He’d been too cold, in too much pain and whenever he’d dared to shut his eyes he could have sworn the sounds of the rats got closer. He could tell that dawn wasn’t far off as the shapes of objects around him became clearer. His stomach grumbled with hunger and his throat was parched.

There were sacks of apples and large storage pots filled with grain surrounding him. The sacks were mostly tied off, but one close enough to reach had a hole in the bottom – probably created by the teeth of mice. There were some small apples spilling free from this sack and Ianto was able to crawl across to reach out and grab one of them. It was small and hard, sour to the taste, but contained enough juice to moisten his mouth. He helped himself to a few more, despite the fact that they were so acidic they would probably give him a stomach ache. That seemed to be the least of his problems. Ianto shut his eyes as he realised he’d give anything to have Owen grouse at him and shove a handful of painkillers into his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen woke up to find herself curled up in a dusty hollow under a thin blanket. Looking up into the steep roof space she knew that it hadn’t been a dream, she really was a very long way from home. She wondered if Jack had told Rhys yet. He’d be worried. She’d promised to cook dinner. That was the second time in as many weeks she’d broken that promise.

Once the other women noticed that Gwen was awake, she was freed from the post, although her hands were still tied together. She was then led by one of the younger girls to what appeared to be a latrine area. It was basic and not very pleasant, and hardly the loos that Gwen had been hoping for the previous day. After making use of the facilities, such as they were, she was directed towards the centre of the settlement.

As her guide wove through the round houses, she took in the sounds and sights of the primitive village waking up. She could hear dogs barking and men shouting, although she was unable to work out precisely what was going on. Women walked past carrying firewood and there was smoke in the air from freshly lit fires that she assumed were for cooking. Gwen watched it all in awe as if she was observing a documentary – one of those reconstructions, except this one was complete with realistic smells. It dawned on her that she’d never realised how sanitised the modern city environment was.

Gwen was made to crouch down on the ground in a central open area as if to await her fate. After a while of being left alone, avoided by the other people, Ianto was brought to join her. It was obvious to Gwen that he was not doing well, he looked as if he’d not slept a wink and was in even more physical pain than before. His hands were tied in front of him and his ankles were also hobbled to prevent him making a run for it. His face was pale, which made the scabs from the grazes and the bruising even more vivid, along with the purple shadows beneath his eyes. He was pushed to his knees a short distance from where Gwen was sitting. They were given a bowl of gruel each and left alone once more.

“Ianto?” Gwen shuffled over so that she was sitting closer to him and so that she could speak quietly without being overheard. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’ve had better nights’ sleep. Room service was crap… rats … they were crapping…” Ianto stopped that train of thought as it occurred to him that the rats he’d heard had probably left filthy footprints all over the apples he’d eaten. “Never mind that, are you OK? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No, no, I’m fine. They took my clothes mind, all of them, even my underwear would you believe.”

“Oh, I’d believe it.”

“You, too?”

“Yep.” Ianto felt uncomfortable as Gwen’s gaze travelled south. “Oh, and I think I might be allergic to wool, either that or there are fleas in this tunic.”

“That would explain a lot. I wonder what they did with our clothes.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be reunited with them any time soon.” Ianto took a deep breath and voiced his fears to Gwen. “I think we’re stuck here. I don’t think rescue is on its way somehow.”

“I hate to say this, but I think you’re right. Maybe the explosions caused the rift to open. We’ve been thrown back in time, haven’t we? How far back do you think?”

“Probably the Iron Age. The spears and swords have iron blades.” Ianto looked over his shoulder at one of the buildings. “Wattle and daub with thatched roofs. They’re not just hunters, there’s some agriculture as well – I was left in a store room overnight. This thin porridge is probably barley gruel of some sort.”

Focusing on the tangible evidence that they could analyse helped both of them to avoid dealing with the implications of being stranded in a time zone far from home.

“Iron age – so that’s before the Romans invaded, right? So, are we talking a couple of thousand years ago?”

“Not that simple, unfortunately,” mumbled Ianto, shaking his head. “The Iron age lasted from about 800 BC to the time of the Roman invasion in the first century AD… which would mean that we could have been thrown back anywhere between two and three thousand years in the past.”

“Oh fuck.” Gwen suddenly realised just how far back they had travelled.

“Yeah.” Ianto pressed his lips together tightly, mentally echoing Gwen’s sentiments.

“What’s going to happen to us?”

“Well the good news is that they haven’t killed us yet. If we’d have been armed I think our heads would have been stuck on posts to warn off the rest of our tribe by now. Which means they will probably hear us out first –”

“- and then kill us?”

“Not necessarily – we’ve got to try to be convincing, throw ourselves on their mercy. How’s your Welsh?”

“Patchy to be honest with you. I understand it well enough, but we never spoke it much at home. Rhys is better, coming from North Wales and all …”

“It’s probably best that you don’t speak too much. They’ll probably think you’re a witch or possessed if you try to negotiate – don’t look at me like that, it’s just what’s likely to happen.”

“I suppose you’re right and at least you’ll be able to figure out what they’re saying,” admitted Gwen reluctantly.

“I’ll tell them we were attacked and ask if they can shelter us.”

“Well, you’re looking like the walking wounded so that won’t need faking,” noted Gwen, gingerly touching a fingertip to the bruising now visible on Ianto’s bare arms. She could tell that it probably extended beneath the tunic and trousers. “Seriously though, Ianto, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Pretty rough. I think I’ve got some deep muscle damage from when that brick wall fell on me. My back felt really stiff this morning. And, to make things worse, I haven’t had any coffee for over twenty-four hours.”

“Oh shit … no caffeine, how the hell are we going to cope?” mocked Gwen, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“Probably better than Jack will.” Ianto smiled as he cast his mind back to the previous morning, when he’d shared a hastily grabbed cup of coffee with Jack as they’d got ready to leave the Hub. The blue and white striped mug, Jack’s favourite. The last kiss from Jack had been warm and coffee-flavoured.

“Hello? Earth calling Ianto. You still there, love?”

“Yeah – just thinking about coffee.” A wistful look clouded Ianto’s eyes. “I’m going to miss it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happened next resembled some form of tribal court hearing. They were taken out of the village to a clearing in the woods. There were several large standing stones arranged in a horseshoe shape and they were made to stand at the open end. A group of the elders from the village were gathered solemnly around the larger stones, sitting on animal pelts that had been spread out over the remnants of a fallen tree trunk.

Gwen was the only woman present and found herself being stared at in a way that could only be described as greedily. Before she knew what was happening, two burly men grabbed hold of her by the arms and tried to drag her from Ianto’s side. She struggled valiantly and Ianto tried to fight off the men who had grabbed hold of her, but all that achieved was for him to be kicked to the ground and held out of the way. Gwen had then been made to stand in the centre of the area as a procession of men circled around, some squeezing her upper arms as if to see how much fat she had on her. One slapped her backside and laughed at her outrage as another groped her breasts. Their intentions were all too clear and Gwen was shaking with impotent fury.

Heaving himself up to his feet, shaking off the man who had been holding him down, Ianto yelled out, causing the men surrounding Gwen to pause in their harassment.

“Fy ngwraig yw hi!” yelled Ianto once more, pointing at Gwen and then at himself.

Gwen understood what he was saying and was sure that she looked as shocked as the men who suddenly stood back from her, their hands off. Ianto locked eyes with her, silently beseeching her to play along with this. In an instant, Gwen realised that she was merely a chattel and that the men were deciding who wanted her. But Ianto had laid claim on her, proclaiming to them all that she was his wife and it seemed as if his outburst had been enough to keep her safe. She watched as one of the elders walked across to Ianto, urgently questioning him.

Ianto nodded his head and looking at Gwen he held up his bound hands beckoning her to join him. She quickly ran back to stand by Ianto’s side and leaned into him, supporting him as best she could. Ianto spoke carefully and she noted him trying to be formal in his speech as if trying to convey a sense of respect.

  
“Rydym yn ymosod.”

  
Well, Gwen thought, that was the truth, they had been attacked.

  
“Mae eisiau loches arnon ni,” added Gwen, thinking it would sound better if she was the one asking for shelter and protection, rather than Ianto.

  
The elder then walked back to the others, evidently to discuss their fate. There appeared to be some disagreement and it was clear that at least three of the men present wanted to get rid of them as soon as possible, hands on scabbards leaving no room for misunderstanding. Gwen turned to face Ianto and rested her forehead on his chest as they waited, he looped his bound hands over her head to hold her close, protectively. They were both aware of the fact that they were basically defenceless and that those minutes standing under the rustling leaves in a forest grove could well be their last. Ianto leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Gwen’s head. The tenderness of the gesture nearly broke her.

  
At long last, the oldest and apparently most senior of the men stood up and gestured for them to be brought forward- separately.

  
“Gallwch chi hyd mae e yn iachau. Wedyn, rhaid ichi fynd.”

  
“What did he say?” Gwen whispered urgently, not having understood the strong accent.

  
Ianto bowed his head and nudged Gwen prompting her to do the same in a sign of gratitude.

“He said we can stay until I’m healed. Then we have to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By nightfall, Gwen and Ianto found themselves, unbound and alone in a disused hut on the edge of the settlement. Its thatched roof was in disrepair, there were large gaps from where it had been pulled apart, probably to provide material for the larger huts. The puddles inside bore testimony to the fact that the rain came through those gaps.

They’d been provided with some blankets, firewood and food. One of the older women had pressed a small earthenware pot into Gwen’s hands and pointed at Ianto’s back. It contained solid animal fat, green with some sort of herbal infusion and it stunk, but in the absence of anything else, Ianto let Gwen rub it into his bruises carefully. They were both exhausted and the fact that neither of them smelt particularly fragrant was beyond caring about. They were still alive and that’s all that mattered.

As it grew dark they spread one of the blankets down on the ground and then curled around one another under the other blanket. The need to share warmth and comfort went without saying as Gwen rested her head on Ianto’s shoulder, feeling his arms wrapped closely around her. In the dark, she let her tears run freely. Ianto responded by stroking her back in an attempt to comfort her. A forlorn sigh escaped, informing Gwen that she wasn’t the only one feeling sad. She realised there was no need to ask questions, but she held him more tightly.

They were both beginning to accept that the men they loved wouldn’t be around for another few thousand years, by which time they would be long dead. They were grieving for lives they had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Welsh may be a bit rough and ready - I changed the sense a bit of what they were saying and relied on Google. Please let me know if it's badly wrong! My excuse is that Ianto and Gwen aren't fluent and the Iron Age Celts are speaking a variant of Welsh.


	10. Chapter 10

John smiled to himself as he slowly turned to face Tosh, who, despite her petite frame, projected an aura of fury that hinted at murderous intent. Behind her Owen was looking seriously pissed off and quite capable of shooting first and asking questions later. They’d apparently entered the Hub through a different entrance than the one that he’d used, one that didn’t set the alarms off. Both had their handguns pointing in his direction and the looks on their faces left no doubt in his mind that they were more than ready to fill him with bullets. Although he was almost tempted to laugh at them, it did occur to John that after their last encounter, they had good cause to want to either maim him or kill him. Neither option appealed to him so he bit back the sarcasm as best he could.

“Took you bloody time, didn’t you, team Torchwood?”

“He’s set the rift to open!” yelled Jack urgently. “Tosh, you’ve gotta undo whatever he’s done!” 

As Tosh scrambled to the nearest computer terminal, Owen kept his gun aimed at John, he figured Jack could wait another few minutes. 

Tosh was beyond angry that her system had been hacked into and its programs corrupted. But she didn’t let her disgust slow her down as she reversed the command sequences fed in by John Hart, cursing him with every key that she pressed. She took the precaution of changing the passwords and codes before exiting the rift manipulation program.

“Done. Owen, why don’t you help Jack now.” Tosh sighed as she spared a glance in Jack’s direction, noting a look of relief flooding his features. “I’ll watch over our uninvited guest.” 

As Tosh focussed on John, Owen moved rapidly to Jack who had remained silent as Tosh had saved the city from devastation. Owen busied himself unfastening the manacles that had held Jack in position, helplessly dangling against the tiled wall, suspended above the ground. He noted the blood stains, bullet holes and cuts in Jack’s shirt, indications of at least one painful death. That explained to Owen the weariness in Jack’s eyes and his lack of responsiveness.

“Get down on your knees,” growled Tosh, her instruction to John accompanied by a fierce glare that informed him that she was only to willing to kill him if necessary. 

“Honestly, it’s just sex, sex, sex with you people,” John drawled as he nonchalantly dropped to one knee and then slowly knelt down in front of Tosh.

“Now! Hands behind your head! I’m going to need a really good reason not to shoot you within the next twenty seconds.”

“Would it help if I told you that only I know how to find the girl and Eye Candy?”

“What have you done with them?” Tosh kicked John in the chest, knocking him onto his back and then planted a stilettoed heel in his groin.

“You bitch, that hurts!” squealed John, curling up in pain. “It wasn’t my idea. Why is it that I always get blamed?”

“Because you’re a lying, two-faced arsehole?” called out Owen, who was busy rubbing Jack’s arms to get the blood circulating again.

“Listen to me. You have to believe me,” begged John, sounding genuinely desperate. “It’s Gray, Jack’s brother, that’s been doing all this.”

“You’re lying.” Tosh frowned, aiming another kick at John’s prone body. “He is, isn’t he Jack?”

“Unfortunately, no. It’s the truth.” Jack’s voice was quiet and he looked grim leaning on Owen, his arm draped around the doctor’s shoulders. “Gray took them.”

“What the fuck’s going on, Jack?” swore Owen, stabbing a finger in the direction of John. “Why the hell should we believe that he’d let anyone make him do anything?” 

“Because he stuck a bomb on my arm!” responded John, holding out his arm as if that exonerated him from all that had happened. “Molecularly bonded the detonator to my skin. I had to do what he wanted.”

Tosh didn’t care what John said about having been forced to do whatever it was he had done; he’d caused Jack pain and he’d probably hurt Gwen and Ianto as well. That was unforgivable. He’d have to do a hell of a lot to redeem himself in her eyes.

“Who the fuck is Gray?” Owen challenged Jack. “You’ve never mentioned any family. How come Captain Smartarse here knows all about him?”

“Like I told you before, we go back,” replied Jack as he walked slowly towards the workbench where his Webley pistol had been set aside. Checking that it hadn’t been tampered with, Jack tucked it back into its holster on his belt. “But I still don’t know how the hell he found Gray after all this time. John?”

Jack glared at John Hart inviting him to explain exactly how he had found Gray.

“It was you who told me how you got separated as kids, how Gray was taken. I got wind of prisoners being located on the Bedlam Outlands. I found him chained to the ruins of a city, surrounded by corpses. He was the only one left alive.”

“You don’t strike me as the benevolent hero, dashing across the galaxy to rescue prisoners-” snarled Owen, not believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, well. I may have had an ulterior motive. I still found him. The creatures had long since gone. Dunno how long he’d been there.” 

John paused, looking grim, as if the memories of what he’d seen were still haunting him. Despite their scepticism, both Tosh and Owen were struck by the sincerity with which John spoke. 

“As far as Gray was concerned, I was the rescuing hero. But he’d learned terrible… horrible… things watching those creatures.”

“You thought that he’d be your ticket back into my bed, didn’t you?” Jack nodded, knowing exactly what had been in his previous partner’s mind, and it had nothing to do with selfless gestures. It bore a striking resemblance to many a scam they had set up in the past – reuniting separated loved ones or family members for a fee. 

“Something like that, you can’t blame me for trying – we were good together, you and me! Anyway, he scrubbed up pretty good, especially once he’d had a few decent meals. We had some fun for a while. I was his first – how sweet is that?” The broad grin on John’s face slipped away as Jack advanced on him. “Oh, you’re not so happy – well tough shit, Jack, you weren’t there. Anyway, more fool me, I made the mistake of trusting him – never again, I’m telling you. How was I to know that he’d gone so fucking mad that he wanted to destroy you?”

“Oh, Jack, what the hell is it with you and baggage from your past? Not only a psychotic ex, but also an estranged brother with a vendetta against you?” Owen scowled as he ran his hand through his hair in despair. “If this tosser thinks he’s mad, we’re in for a shitload of trouble, aren’t we?” 

“Not now, Owen.” Despite the realisation that Owen’s accusations were a fair summary of the situation, Jack was anxious to get answers. “Later with the recriminations, for now we need to find him.”

“Where is he? Where is Jack’s brother now?” Tosh walked across towards John, her heels clicking ominously.

“Where did he go?” Jack crouched down next to John and grabbed hold of a handful of his hair, tugging it to pull the other man to his knees once more.

“He went after Eye Candy and the girl –”

“Yeah – I know that much, but you must know when and where!”

“Get this fucking thing off me and then we’ll talk.” John made a fist and shoved his arm in Jack’s face. “If he comes back before it’s disarmed, he’ll detonate it and kill all of us.”

“On one condition – you take me to them.” 

Jack could see that John was agitated and if it wasn’t for the fact that the detonation of the bomb would probably kill Tosh and destroy what was left of Owen he’d be tempted to leave it in place until John gave him the answers he needed.

“Yes – whatever you want, just get this bloody thing off of me before that bastard comes back!”

Jack opened his own wrist strap and concentrated for a while until he worked out what Gray had done. Luckily for John the molecular bonding mechanism could be overridden more easily than he’d been led to believe. Jack shook his head as he recalled how he’d always been the one with the brains in their partnership. With a final punching in of a string of concise commands there was a slight bleeping sound from John’s wrist strap and then nothing.

John screamed and bent double as pain shot through his wrist, before cautiously pulling the strap away from his arm. As he pulled it off, it took a few layers of skin with it, leaving behind sore, open wounds as he peeled the leather strap away. 

“Gotta destroy that – stop it being set off,” John muttered to himself anxiously.

“What?”

Before they could stop him, John had sprung to his feet, snatched one of the machine guns from the top of the nearest desk, thrown the wrist strap as far away as he could and had blasted it to pieces.

In the ensuing confusion, Jack wrestled John to the ground and twisted his arms behind his back to disarm him.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Jack hissed at John, whose face was pressed into the metal grid work on the floor.

“To stop Gray from blowing us up!”

“And just how the hell are we going to find Ianto and Gwen now?” 

“We’ll use yours – I’ll just enter the co-ordinates. What is it?” John could feel Jack’s muscles tensing up, a faint tremble in the hands that forced his arms back. “What-?”

Before John had the chance to finish his question, Jack spun him around and hauled him to his feet. Staggering to keep his balance, John was taken aback as Jack grabbed hold of his jacket and slammed a fist into his face, propelling him into the watery basin.

“Mine. Doesn’t. Work.” Jack yelled, his voice verging on hysterical.

“What do you mean?” John rubbed his chin as he got up soaking wet and confused. “I just saw you –” 

“Teleporting and time travel functions. Disabled.” 

Not for the first time did Jack curse the Doctor for making him a fixed point in time and space in more ways than one.

“What? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” growled John staring at Jack as if he’d grown a second head.

“It was none of your business!”

“Well it is now!”

Their argument was brought to a sudden halt as a single gunshot echoed through the Hub, followed by the complaints of the screeching pteranodon.

“Shut up both of you!” yelled Tosh. “For god’s sake stop arguing and explain what the hell is going on.”

“Ianto and Gwen were transported back in time,” explained Jack. He swallowed hard as he saw the reactions of his remaining team members. “Two thousand years in the past.”

“What?” demanded Tosh, horrified. She recalled how awful it had been when she had been transported back to the 1940’s with no return in sight and could only imagine how much worse it would be to be that far back in time.

“I didn’t have a choice!” protested John.

“There’s always a choice,” snarled Owen, equally appalled at the fate of their friends. 

It occurred to Owen, that if either Gwen or Ianto had needed medical care they would be in serious trouble. He recalled the bloodstains in the rubble and wracked his brain to think if that much blood could have been lost from wounds that didn’t require stitches and then his mind started to catalogue infection control procedures. Maybe they’d be alright if they could get to them soon. Unfortunately, his hopes were to be short-lived.

“Without a functioning wrist strap there’s no way of rescuing them,” Jack spat out as he advanced on John once more. “They’re stranded there. I can’t get them back.”

“Come on, you’ll think of something. We’ll find them together, yeah?” John began to shuffle back into the cold, dank water, anywhere rather than face the storm that he saw gathering on Jack’s brow. 

“We’d better – because if we don’t find them, I’ll kill you.” Jack spoke quietly, dangerously and with absolute conviction. “Very slowly.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the past - how are Ianto and Gwen coping?

Gwen swore for the umpteenth time that day, having burnt her hand yet again manoeuvring the two cooking pots. They were now leaning precariously amongst the embers of the fire in the centre of the hut they had been allowed to occupy. Ianto put down the stack of firewood he’d collected so that he could sit next to her and, using two stout sticks, he shifted the pot of bubbling gruel to the edge of the fire. He then took her hand in his and inspected the damage. There were red patches on the palm and the undersides of her fingers, but luckily no obvious blistering.

“You’ll live, but we should try to calm it down a bit, you don’t want it to blister. I’ll go see if I can find some dandelion leaves, comfrey or wild mint. The pots will be fine where they are for now, so don’t try to move them before I get back, OK?”

Gwen nodded and sheepishly returned to her seat on the rotten log they’d dragged into the hut between them. She thought of her old sofa in the flat she’d shared with Rhys and how often she’d moaned about how scruffy it was and that the stuffing was lumpy in places. She sighed as she considered the truth of the saying that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Even a cushion would make the world of difference. 

It wasn’t long before Ianto returned, out of breath, clutching a handful of herbs. He sat cross legged on the dusty floor and quickly crushed the fresh leaves on the quern stone they’d been given. Ianto had joked with her at the time about it having been to them as a hut-warming gift. Gwen watched on as he gathered up the pulped plants and then gestured for her to hold her hand out so that he could squeeze the sap out onto her burns. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Gwen smiled fondly as she observed Ianto gently biting his lower lip, concentrating on getting the juices onto all of the angry red marks. In the dim light of the hut he had to hold her hand close to his face so that he could see properly. She was near enough to see the way his lashes fanned out, she’d never noticed that before.

“My granny – she didn’t have any time for modern medicines, insisted that most of them were based on natural products anyway. Feel any better?”

“Yes, thank you.” 

Looking up, Gwen accidentally bumped noses with Ianto and had to consciously hold herself back as she began to lean in even closer. She swallowed nervously as the realisation of what she’d nearly done dawned on her. She wasn’t sure if Ianto had picked up on her intentions as he’d automatically moved back to busy himself with scraping what was left of the herb extract into a small wooden bowl, which he then took and placed alongside the range of pots and bowls they’d accumulated. 

Gwen smiled as she watched Ianto carefully rearrange their meagre belongings, even here he couldn’t help but strive for order in chaos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In exchange for time spent weeding the fields and cleaning out the animal pens, Ianto and Gwen had managed to acquire a few basic necessities, including a knife, two woollen cloaks that doubled up as blankets at night and a chipped quern stone for grinding grain. Gwen had managed to patch up the dome-shaped clay oven that they’d discovered next to the central fire pit. After trial and error, they had worked out between them how to grind the barley and wheat they’d been given to make coarse flour, from which they could make bread. It had become Ianto’s task to grind the grain and Gwen’s to make the dough; their first few attempts had been gritty and almost inedible, but they were improving with time. 

As soon as they’d been given permission to stay, they’d been shown a safe way down to the stream and were given a water carrier made from some form of animal hide. The stream provided water for cooking and washing, and although the villagers drank it as it came, Ianto insisted that they boil it before drinking it, a precaution that Gwen wholeheartedly agreed with. 

Along the stream, they’d found bramble bushes and had gathered blackberries to add to the basic porridge that they ate for most meals. There were other berries that they picked to ensure they got some vitamins in their diet, including bitter elderberries and sour rose hips, which were easier to consume if stewed with crab apples. Gwen had never thought she had a particularly sweet tooth until denied the option and made it her personal mission to seek out as many fruits and berries as she could find.

If Gwen’s focus had been to source sweet foods, Ianto took upon himself the task of finding high protein foods that did not involve killing anything furry. The villagers kept sheep for wool and milk, some of which was used to make cheese, and a few pigs for meat, they would also venture out onto the marshes to hunt for wild fowl. However, it became clear that the villagers weren’t prepared to share those precious resources with the strangers who had been taken into their midst. 

In an exploration of the stream, Ianto had come across a deeper pool in which he caught some freshwater mussels and crayfish, delighted at his good fortune. Gwen had boiled these up in a pot with some wild carrot roots and some herbs for favouring. She had picked what she thought looked like parsley, but Ianto’s observation that wild parsley looked quite similar to hemlock when young put her off that idea. For the same reason, they avoided collecting any wild fungi other than the horse mushrooms which Gwen would forage for, early in the morning, in the field where the few ponies were kept. They had only got sick a few times and learnt bitterly from those mistakes. 

After the first night of sleeping on the bare ground of their round house, they decided to construct some type of bed. They had gathered leaf litter, dried bracken fronds and old straw to pile up into a makeshift sleeping platform, using branches along the sides to keep the filling from spilling out. They covered this with one of the cloaks to make a more comfortable surface than the bare ground upon which to sleep. It had gone without saying that they made one bed and not two. For warmth, comfort and safety they chose to sleep close to one another. Neither of them saw it as a betrayal of Rhys or Jack. It was what the circumstances demanded. 

But however hard they tried, they were fully aware that they were surviving at a subsistence level and it seemed to Gwen that she was always feeling hungry and cold. Not only that, but Ianto had still not recovered from his injuries. It was only because they slept wrapped up in each other’s arms that Gwen had heard Ianto whimper in pain as he drifted into wakefulness in the mornings; otherwise she would never have got him to admit how much pain he was still in. She was worried that maybe he’d cracked a vertebra or damaged one of the discs in his spine in the explosion. Although the bruises that had peppered his fair skin were fading and the cuts healing well with the aid of the antiseptic poultices that Ianto had made from wild herbs, the pain persisted. The hard, physical labour coupled with sleeping in the damp, cold air was only making Ianto’s condition worse and despite his attempts to hide his discomfort from her, Gwen was concerned about Ianto. She felt that she owed it to Jack to look after him. She knew in her heart that he’d have wanted her to.

It was now almost two weeks since they had been reluctantly accepted as guests in the settlement, on the understanding that they kept to themselves and maintained a low profile. The elders of the village were still unsure of them and there were strong feelings amongst some that no good would come of harbouring the strangers, some were afraid that retribution would be taken on the clan if their presence was widely known. Unbeknown to Gwen and Ianto, their clothing had been burnt and the remains buried deep in one of the waste pits. Ianto would have been appalled if he had known the fate of his beloved suit, as would Jack.

Aside from cursory discussions regarding the exchange of manual toil for food stuffs and other essentials, nobody spoke to Ianto or went anywhere near the shabby hut. That suited them to some extent as it allowed them to talk freely of people, things and places that wouldn’t come into existence for another two millennia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen and, after scoring a notch in the stick they’d set aside for marking the passage of time, Ianto joined Gwen, sitting astride the log they had rolled closer to the fire. She leaned back, into his chest, grateful for the way he wrapped his arms about her waist holding her close. They’d become increasingly comfortable with such intimacy, they had resigned themselves to the fact that they had no one left but each other. Their relationship had always been one akin to that of older sister and little brother at Torchwood, but that had existed alongside other bonds, those of husband and wife for Gwen and Rhys, and lovers for Ianto and Jack. Now they were alone and were the only family they had in the entire world. They were totally dependent on one another.

“Ianto – I know you said I shouldn’t, but surely my rings would be worth something here? They are gold – we could trade them for more food and clothing. We could get some smoked meat, cheese, maybe even some honey. Perhaps a sheepskin rug.” Gwen had already composed a shopping list in her head of what they needed. “You need to eat more protein or you’re not going to heal properly. The cold’s not good for you either and we’re going to need something more substantial to keep us warm at night soon enough, it’s autumn already.”

“Gwen – I can’t let you give them up. You’ll regret it if you do and then you’ll nag me about it for the rest of my life.”  
Ianto took Gwen’s hand and rubbed his thumb across her ring finger to emphasise what he was saying. He then frowned as he tugged at the ring that was stuck fast on his own hand.

“I just wish I could get this damn thing off my finger and I’d trade that in an instant.”

“You sure you’ve never seen it before?”

Gwen had discussed the strange ring with Ianto on several occasions. He’d insisted each time that it had just appeared in his jacket pocket, whilst she was convinced it was a surreptitious gift from Jack. 

“Yep, positive. And for what it’s worth, I’m still not buying your theory that Jack slipped into my pocket to surprise me.”

“I happen to like that theory. Come on, it looks like no metal we’ve ever seen before and the patterns on it look pretty alien to me. Come here, let me see it again-” requested Gwen, pulling Ianto’s hand into hers to get a closer look at the design in the flickering fire light. “Maybe it’s a partnership ring from the future?”

“Gwen! Don’t be so bloody sentimental – me and Jack, we’re not like that,” responded Ianto, with a gentle huff. “It’s not that he can’t have his romantic moments, I’ll grant you that. But… let’s be honest here, Jack’s immortal and I was never going to be around long enough for him to make any type of commitment to-”

“But, Ianto, you deserve-”

“Moot point now, Gwen,” interrupted Ianto, before he had to listen to Gwen tell him he deserved happiness, or something equally pointless. “Anyway, this ring isn’t his style at all.”

Ianto knew Jack’s tastes and they were classier and less flashy. 

Gwen laughed at Ianto’s indignant outrage and then nudged him gently.

“So, these romantic moments – want to tell me about them? Go on, spill, I want details.”

Ianto felt himself going pink and shook his head coyly, thinking that if he shared those precious memories with Gwen he’d dilute them. Selfishly, he kept them close to his chest. In his mind’s eye, he recalled mornings waking up with Jack, in his own bed, the other man’s arms holding him close as if in a cage to keep him from harm. Jack asleep in his bed, stealing the duvet and the pillows, pinning him down with drowsy limbs. Those stolen moments, before the rift and Torchwood dragged them out of the warm haven, those were his most valuable memories and he smiled as he closed his eyes.

“You OK, love?” whispered Gwen, who had turned around to watch Ianto and seen him shut his eyes, droplets of moisture collecting in the corner of one.  
If it hadn’t been for the sad smile upon his lips she’d have thought his back was proving more painful than usual. She reached down and put her hand on one of his knees, squeezing gently. She could guess who he was thinking of and the expression on his face told her more about the relationship between him and Jack than anything she’d walked in on back at the Hub.

“I’ll be fine,” Ianto whispered in reply. “Not yet – but one day, I guess.” 

“So then, how about I just trade in one ring – which should I pick? Engagement or wedding ring?”

“Neither – I couldn’t forgive myself if I let you barter your rings for a stinky sheepskin rug and bag of dried bacon.”

“I’ll sell my body then.”

“Don’t even joke about it, because I’d then have nightmares imagining what Rhys, and Jack for that matter, would do to me if they ever found out!”

“OK, then. But you can’t keep doing hard physical graft– not with your back in the state it’s in. You’ll only make it worse.”

“There is an alternative. I was approached today-”

“You are not selling your body either! I don’t think I can allow that-”

“Not quite,” Ianto smiled as he rolled his eyes. “The younger men are gathering a raiding party to take back some sheep that were stolen the other night by a neighbouring tribe. They don’t want to involve the elders or any men with children, so I was asked if I’d be willing to join them-”

“No! Ianto, that’s too bloody dangerous – you could get yourself killed!” 

Gwen shot to her feet, terrified at what Ianto was considering. She had seen the evidence of the wounds caused by the broad bladed iron swords and shuddered to think of Ianto suffering similar damage. She grabbed hold of Ianto’s arms tightly and forced him to look her in the face.

“I’m not going to take any stupid risks,” asserted Ianto, standing up to face Gwen. He rested his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “They’re offering more than just food and tools. If we get the sheep back, they’re prepared to give us one of their ponies. We’re going to need transport when they finally tell us to leave, something to carry all the gear we’ll need to survive. The elders aren’t going to let us stay here indefinitely you know, chances are we’ll be thrown out before winter sets in.”

“A pony?” Gwen echoed, thrown by the image of Ianto on horseback that came to mind.

“Why not?” Ianto pulled Gwen into a warming hug. “Didn’t you want a pony when you were a little girl? My sister Rhiannon did.”

“Don’t make me say it, Ianto.” Gwen giggled as she shook her head at him affectionately. Resting her head on his shoulder she sighed and became serious once more. “Just promise me you won’t get yourself killed for a pony.”

“I promise. Can’t be leaving you all on your own, can I?” Ianto gave Gwen a gentle kiss on her head and tightened his hold on her. He hoped he could keep his promise, but he knew that if he didn’t take the risk, they probably wouldn’t survive the winter


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in the Hub...

Deep in the vaults of the Hub a golden rift flare coalesced and shimmered, opening up briefly as a lone figure stepped through and then snapping shut.

Gray was frustrated. He was tempted to just trigger the detonator on Hart’s wrist for the sheer hell of it. But he needed to know what the hell he’d done behind his back. He needed to know why he hadn’t been able to find his brother’s ‘little friends’. He wanted to know where they’d gone. 

Looking around, he noticed the grotesque creatures in the cells surrounding him and narrowing his eyes he decided, on impulse, to let them out. It occurred to him that they looked as if they could do with the exercise. 

As the cell doors sprung open, the weevils shuffled out warily, sniffed at Gray and skirted around the walls in an effort to avoid him. They sensed something wrong about him. Then they fled, heading for the upper levels and freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You complete arsewipe, Hart – you dumped them in the distant fucking past and just left them there?” 

Owen had expected to find Gwen and Ianto tied up or stuck in a cell. He’d envisaged having to carry out some first aid treatment, maybe even a trip to A&E, but discovering that his potentially seriously injured colleagues were thousands of years away from medical care shocked him to the core. 

“What state were they in? Either of them concussed? Were they mobile? Broken bones?” Owen launched into his list of questions, becoming increasingly agitated as the various scenarios came to mind. “Bleeding? I know one of them must’ve been bleeding! Were they losing much blood?” 

“Do I look like a fucking good Samaritan? Or a nurse for that matter?” John looked up angrily from where he sat in the pool at the base of the water tower. “I don’t know – they didn’t wake up before we left them, so I haven’t a bloody clue. They were alive, OK?”

That’s when Owen took his gun and aimed it at John Hart and would have shot him in the head if Jack hadn’t stepped forward, disarming him in one fluid movement, pushing his arm up and twisting the gun out of his hand. 

“Jack! Are you defending that bastard?” Tosh was incredulous.

“What did you do that for?” Owen turned on Jack angrily. “Did you hear him? Ianto and Gwen could be bleeding out or in need of surgery – and that piece of shit just left them.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t need him to show me where they are, I’d have killed him myself by now,” grunted Jack as he leaned down and grabbed one of John’s feet, roughly dragging him out of the water and onto the metal flooring. He held him in place with a foot planted on his chest, barely letting him breathe. “We’re going to find a way to get Ianto and Gwen back and if either of them have suffered in any way, I shall kill you and don’t think for one minute I’ll show you any mercy by letting it be a quick death.”

“Jack – how are you going to find them?” Tosh demanded. “You said that you need a functioning wrist strap?”

“Yes, and there’s one more out there – isn’t there?” Jack grabbed the front of John’s shirt in his fist and hauled him to his feet. To emphasise the point, Jack slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. 

“Oh fuck, you don’t mean to try to get that one off psycho-bunny, do you?” John rolled his eyes as he licked the blood from his split lip.

“Yes, and you’re going to help me.”

It was at that moment that a loud, piercing sound had each of them covering their ears in pain. 

“What the hell is that?” asked Owen. 

Tosh ran across to her work station to check the internal security cameras. The sound wasn’t one of their regular alarms, but it seemed as if their systems had been overridden to transmit the sound. Although Tosh had been able to reverse the programming on the rift manipulator set up by John easily enough – it had almost appeared as if he’d intended for it to be easily undone- this hadn’t been initiated from the main controls. It took her a few minutes, but she did manage to block the transmission, however, a glance at the images on the screens showed her the effects of the short burst of high frequency audio waves. 

“Oh no, there are weevils loose in the lower corridors. They’re moving up, towards the surface. Oh, my God, what’s going on, how did they all get out?”

“It’s gotta be Gray,” said John, shaking his head. “He must be back in the city. He swore that he was gonna take Jack’s life, destroy it from the inside out. A weevil wake-up call could be just the beginning.”

“They’re heading this way!” yelled Tosh, pointing at her monitor anxiously.

“Quick – weevil spray and restraints, Tosh,” ordered Owen. “I’ll subdue them.”

“John – make yourself useful and I won’t let them kill you.” Jack threw a set of cuffs at John and spun round, aiming his Webley at a pair of weevils that had snuck into the main area of the Hub.

“You know you’ve got a real pest problem around here,” mumbled John as he stood back to back with Jack, grimacing at the sight of the snarling mouths that were full of jagged teeth, dripping with strings of thick saliva.

A gaggle of weevils had entered the central area with less fear than usual, but as soon as they saw the figure of Owen, his eyes darkened and his teeth bared, they dropped to their knees.

“Jack – you and John should be able to snap cuffs on them now,” whispered Owen.

Not lowering his gun, just in case a more brutal form of persuasion would be required, Jack slowly circled the weevils – indicating for John to take the opposite side in a pincer movement. They were relieved to discover that Owen’s charm didn’t fail and they were able to cuff the weevils before administering a strong dose of the sedative spray directly into their nostrils. 

“Looks like your dear brother isn’t far away,” muttered John as he grimaced at the smell of the weevils. “What’s the cunning plan?”

“Tosh – can you check for any anomalous vortex activity in the vicinity?” asked Jack, ignoring John.

“Yes – one minute – there it is. A small opening about ten minutes ago, barely noticeable, but it was right here inside the Hub – six levels down.”

“The cells – right. John you’re with me, let’s get these weevils locked up again before they wake up.”

“Like I said – do you have a plan??”

“I’m gonna try talking to him first.”

“Oh, that’s fucking great – haven’t you heard a word I’ve told you about him? His thought processes are stuck in a manic ‘kill and avenge’ loop. He actually enjoys mutilation and mayhem more than I do. Do you know how fucking wrong that is?”

“Owen – get to work sorting out a medical kit, anything you think we might need and some basic instructions would be good. Tosh, I want you to see if there’s anything that can be recovered from the remains of John’s wrist strap, anything that resembles a processor chip would be great. There’s an outside chance I may be able to use it to repair mine if we don’t get Gray’s off him. Got it?”

“Yes, Jack.” Tosh quickly set to work gathering the shattered fragments of John’s vortex manipulator.

“It’s going to be a fucking big bag – I hope you know that.” Owen glared at Jack as he made his way towards the autopsy bay. 

“Just do it, Owen.” Jack couldn’t afford himself time to contemplate what Owen was implying. There was too much at stake for him to be distracted. He grabbed a comm unit for himself and tested it to make sure that Tosh and Owen could hear him.

“Oi, wanker – here’s a bandage – wrap that arm up,” Owen threw a roll of sterilised gauze at John who caught it single handed. “I’m the only one allowed to leave blood smears on the furniture and even then, I get bitched at.” 

“Are you still holding a grudge because I shot you? Bloody hell, it was only a flesh wound. What about you, gorgeous? Gonna kiss it better for me?” John turned his attention to Tosh as he pouted at her in vain. “No? S’pose not. Miserable bloody bastards.”

Jack dragged one of the weevils onto his shoulders and motioned for John to take another. He led the way down the narrow metal staircase towards the cells. He didn’t want to risk getting trapped in the lift. 

“John – when this is all over, if I haven’t killed you, I never want to see you ever again, is that clear?”

“I can put this all right- I put a tracker on Eye Ca-”

“Ianto! His name is Ianto.”

“His name may as well be worm food if you refuse my help!”

“Why did you even put a tracker on him? So that you could go back maybe and make him suffer some more?”

“No, you prat. Believe it or not, I worked out for myself that if you didn’t get him back you’d want to kill me and wasn’t I right?”

“I meant every word I said, if we don’t find him, I will make you pay –”

“You’ve got it pretty bad, haven’t you?” John laughed out loud, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day – you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“That is none of your damn business!” Jack spat out, having no intentions of discussing his feelings for Ianto with the man who had callously abandoned him and Gwen out of his reach and probably injured. 

“I bet you never got around to letting him know,” John’s taunted Jack, his lips twisting into a crooked smile.

Jack hated that his ex knew him so well. He thought he’d changed, but there were some aspects of his personality that remained the same and that was one of them. An inbuilt defence mechanism, a stubborn refusal to actually admit to anyone just how much they meant to him, protecting him from the inevitable losses. That had been true when he was a Time Agent and even more so now that he outlived everyone he’d known or ever would know.

“Just shut up and help me get these weevils in the cells.”

John smirked as he spied a chink in Jack’s armour. It occurred to him that he still had a chance to redeem himself. It was obvious that Ianto Jones was more than just a cute arse to Jack, a lot more. That could only be good news for the man who knew the precise frequency at which the tracker in the ring was transmitting. Perhaps he could persuade Jack to let him go with all his favourite body parts intact.

As they stepped inside the open cells and dropped their unresponsive burdens to the ground, both men were startled when the doors slammed shut, locking them inside with the weevils.

“Whoa! What’s happening? Tosh? Owen? Damn, my comms are dead.”

“Jack? This isn’t funny – cut it out! I take back what I said about Ianto – I’m sure you’re the perfect boyfriend and that you make a really sweet couple. Now just open the fucking door!”

Before Jack could reply, Gray slid out of the shadows and stood in front of the glass wall to John’s cell. Jack let his coat sleeve slip over his wrist strap, deciding that it may be to their advantage if Gray thought they were locked in.

“I see you’ve lost the keepsake I gave you,” said Gray as he pointed at John’s bandaged wrist. “I would have let you go, given you the chance to go anywhere you wanted. Why did you betray me?”

“Question of honour.”

“Don’t make me laugh – you’d sell off your sense of honour for a bottle of hypervodka and a pretty face to suck your cock.” Gray smiled knowingly at John. “Which reminds me, what did you do with my brother’s playmates?”

Jack dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, resisting the urge to open the cell doors and to throttle this creature that was masquerading as his brother.

“I don’t know what you’re on about. I haven’t been anywhere near them. Last time I saw them was when we dropped them off. Why? Couldn’t you remember where you left them?”

John made it sound as if Ianto and Gwen were as inconsequential as a lost set of keys. 

“You put something in the boy’s pocket, didn’t you? What was it?”

“That? Memento of Jack – something to remember him by. An old ring he gave me when we were together. Remember that, Jack? I told you then that you’d never get rid of me.” John raised his voice, hoping that his hints would be understood. “Wanted to let Eye Candy know that he could have the trinket, seeing as I was repossessing the owner. Call me sentimental – either that or cruel- can’t remember the difference.”

Jack frowned – an old ring? If that was what he thought it was, then John was telling the truth about the tracker. 

“Gray?” pleaded Jack. “There’s no need for this, we can sort this out. Just tell us where you left them.” 

“Not a chance, brother, your life’s mine now. Which reminds me, this city is meant to be on fire now and it isn’t. Really, John, I thought I could trust you to do that. I guess that if I want a job doing properly, I’m just gonna have to do it myself.”

Gray pulled back his quilted sleeve and pressed a combination of buttons in quick succession, disappearing in a haze of golden shimmer. Jack slammed his fists against the doors as he realised that Tosh and Owen would be unaware of the danger they were in.

“Well that went well didn’t it? I told you-” 

Jack lifted the cover of his own wrist strap and within seconds the doors to their cells swung wide open. Checking that the bottle of weevil sedative was still in his pocket, Jack ran for the stairs that led back up to the main floor of the Hub, John close on his heels.

As they neared the top flight of stairs spiralling upwards, they heard the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired and a bloodcurdling scream.


	13. Chapter 13

_There was blood – and screaming._

_The clash of heavy blades resounded in the misty clearing. The dew-drenched grass was slippery underfoot, making it difficult to hold position. All around, men were shouting and cursing in an ancient tongue._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was blood on the floor. The ancient scream of a startled pteranodon echoed all around as it reacted to the ugly sounds of gunshot. It was accompanied by the clatter of feet on stairs that grew louder amongst frantic voices calling out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_A man stumbled and fell to the ground. Looking up from the sword at his chest, his dark fearful eyes met the uncommonly blue eyes of his adversary, who seemed to be just as scared as he was._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack tried to take in the tableau before him. His eyes widened with undisguised horror – three figures, two shot and bleeding, and another frozen in shock, his gun shaking in trembling hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He knew that he was expected to finish off the man at his feet. He had seen how the others had brutally dispatched their enemies, hacking off their heads with the heavy bladed swords. He couldn’t do that. But it was either kill or be killed._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owen bristled with fury, he wanted nothing more than to finish off Gray. He didn’t care if he was Jack’s brother, the bastard had shot Tosh in cold blood. She was lying on the floor of the Hub, clutching her abdomen, her face crumpled in pain. The sight was breaking his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Ianto staggered back and gestured for the wounded man to get to his feet and run. He tried in vain to moisten his lips with his tongue, but his mouth was dry. His anxiety was well founded, showing mercy to the enemy could get him killed._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack took the gun from Owen, ordering him to see to Tosh, his commands breaking through the panic that had gripped the doctor.

Swallowing down his desire for revenge, Owen followed Jack’s orders and dropped to the floor next to where Tosh lay.

“Tosh, can you hear me? Tosh! Come on, girl, I need you to try to relax,” Owen cajoled Tosh. He needed to get to the wound to treat it and she was tightly curled up, a ball of pain and agony. 

John surprised Jack by sitting down on the other side of Tosh, cradling her in his arms as Owen injected her with a shot that he hoped was a painkiller. 

If Tosh died Jack would never forgive himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Warily, the man on the ground scrambled into a crouching position. A feral look descended on his face as he deduced he had no cause to trust the man with a knife in one hand and a sword in the other. He figured it had to be a trick. After all, he’d witnessed this man fighting earlier, and he could tell he was no coward. He didn’t understand why he was willing to let him go._

_Scrutinising Ianto, he could see that he looked different from the others. He wasn’t part of the clan they’d stolen sheep from. He was considerably taller and those blue eyes troubled him. It struck him that, whoever he was, he didn’t belong._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack crouched down next to Gray, listening intently to his brother’s ragged breaths. He looked younger with his face contorted with attempts not to shed tears of pain. He looked pitiful as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. 

“I forgive you.” Jack spoke quietly, as if to a terrified, wild animal. “I forgive you, Gray.”

“I hate you,” Gray spat out the words between clenched teeth.

Jack’s attempts to comfort his brother were shrugged off, but he refused to be pushed away. He had told John that he would try to talk to Gray and despite his actions, he still wanted to get through to the boy that he had once loved so dearly.

“I’ve forgiven you. I gave you absolution, now do the same for me!” Jack didn’t care that he was begging, he meant it.

“I prayed for death. Those creatures… the things they did to us… because of you, the favourite son, the one who lived, who’ll always live.” Despite the pain he was in, Gray’s overwhelming sentiments were those of spite and loathing. There were no signs of remorse at all. “The only strength I have is my hatred for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Ianto took a wary step backward, he’d seen that expression on the faces of weevils before they turned nasty and lashed out. He raised his sword slightly, ready to defend himself if he had to. Killing a helpless individual was something his conscience would not allow, but he could and would fight back if his own life was in danger._

_The bloodlust he’d occasionally witnessed in Jack that allowed him to kill mercilessly had always slightly sickened Ianto. He wasn’t a killer, the reservoir of hatred necessary for that had long since run dry in his soul. There had been a brief time when he’d really wanted to see Jack die, after what happened to Lisa. He was grateful he’d never seen through that temptation, even though the desire to kill Jack had been replaced by another desire, equally passionate and probably just as dangerous._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack sat behind Gray and held him close, adding his own pressure to the wound, stemming the bleeding until it could be treated.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realise until it was too late.” Jack was torn, this was his brother, he was to blame for all of this.

“I begrudge you everything. I want to rip it all from you, to leave you screaming in the dark. I will never absolve you. All of it, it’s your fault.”

Jack bit his lip and shook his head as he fetched the small can of weevil sedative from his pocket and sprayed it into Gray’s face. Jack held on to his brother as he struggled in vain, before slumping forward losing consciousness. 

“I know. I know, Gray.” 

As Jack sat, rocking his brother in his arms, he looked across to where Owen was working on Tosh. His eyes met John’s and he sensed emotions that he’d never seen in the man before. Genuine regret and sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Jack. But, I tried to warn you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Even though he’d moved back, Ianto was still too close to danger. The injured man, who was crouching on the ground like a coiled spring, suddenly kicked out, knocking Ianto to the ground._

_Ianto landed land awkwardly, the hard impact awakening the old injury to his back, causing pain to shoot up his spine. He didn’t have time to think, and had to roll out of the way fast as a bloodstained blade came hurtling down towards his chest. As his opponent struggled to free the blade from the ground, where the force with which he’d struck had caused it to become embedded, Ianto scrambled to his feet._

_Leaning down, Ianto used the flat of his blade to shove the man backwards so that he couldn’t retrieve his own sword, but in his haste, he failed to see the wickedly sharp dagger that was stuck into his side. Pushing away from his attacker, Ianto swung his sword defensively, wondering if he’d have the strength to wound the man before he lost too much blood._

_With a sudden, shocking insight, it occurred to Ianto that he couldn’t actually kill anyone in his own past. He wasn’t meant to be there. What if he managed to kill one of his own ancestors? Or one of Gwen’s? Would they cease to exist? Who else back in the twenty first century would that affect? What about earlier in time? Men and women who had made their mark in history – if they were never born because he’d killed a man in the Iron Age, what could happen? He was paralysed by fear with what his actions could entail._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack tugged Gray’s quilted jacket from his body, the fabric stiff with grime and sweat. He tore the undershirt away and took a good look at the wound. Owen was a good shot and had aimed to disarm rather than inflict mortal injuries. He was grateful for that, more so than he felt he had a right to be.

“Owen – how’s Tosh?” 

“Not good, Jack. Lost a shitload of blood. But it would have been worse if I hadn’t spotted the bastard making a flashy appearance – managed to shove her out of the way. The bullet’s gone through, too low to hit liver or spleen. I don’t think it nicked anything else vital on the way through. It’s just going to hurt like fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_It hurt like fuck. How he wished he had some of Owen’s painkillers now._

_His opponent lay dead on the ground next to him. He had turned away quickly when he’d seen the blade of one of the villagers fall abruptly, severing the head from the man’s body. But he still felt the warm, wet blood as it spurted out over his face. He tasted the bile that rose up his throat and swallowed it down convulsively, trying hard not to throw up._

_As the blackness edged into his field of view, Ianto looked up into the grinning faces of two of the men he’d ridden out with. They were grabbing hold of his arms, dragging him to his feet. The last thing Ianto was aware of was the scent and soft texture of sheepskin laid across the back of one of the ponies._


	14. Chapter 14

“John – I could do with some help here!” yelled Jack frantically. “Now!”

“Now you want my help?” John called up from the autopsy bay where he’d helped Owen carry Toshiko. “You wait until the place virtually becomes a bloodbath and then you ask for my help!” 

John had wanted to give Jack a few moments to pull himself together, although he wasn’t sure why he’d become so understanding all of a sudden. 

“Shut up – because at the end of the day somebody is going to pay for this and right now it’s a toss-up as to who gets the bill.” 

Despite self recriminations, Jack was still angry with John for bringing disaster crashing down upon them, literally.

Jack gently let go of Gray, who now lay flat on the ground. With his face no longer distorted by hatred, he almost looked at peace with the world. After taking the wrist strap from his brother’s arm, Jack removed the scabbard and sword, and started to go through his pockets, searching for weapons. 

“What are you going to do with him?” John asked, standing above the two brothers, knowing that if it was him, he’d put a bullet in the kid’s brain before he woke up.

“We’re going patch him up and lock him in a cell until I figure out a way to make this better.” 

Jack stood up and wandered over towards the autopsy bay where Owen was frantically working on Tosh. 

“Owen – I need some-”

“If it was up to me, I’d happily let that bastard suffer, even though he is your brother. But as a doctor I guess I’m obliged to at least give you what you need to fix him up,” Owen yanked open a drawer and grabbed a sealed, sterile pouch and threw it at Jack. “Here take this - emergency suture kit.”

Catching the suture kit, Jack tossed it to John, and then crouched down next to his borther.

“With me – now.”

Jack took Gray by the shoulders as John took his feet and they carefully manoeuvred him down the stairs towards the cells.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto was roused from a semi-conscious state as strong hands took hold of him and pulled him down from the back of the horse. He was surprised to find that he was being handled carefully, almost gently as he was lowered to the ground. Vaguely aware of crackling sounds and the smell of burning wood, Ianto realised that he was being held from behind, pressed back into the broad chest of one of the clan, a fierce grip holding his arms to his sides. Someone else took hold of his ankles, pulling his legs out straight before sitting on his them to keep him in place. Confused and beginning to panic, he struggled, anxious to get free, but the words he heard muttered into his ear were trying to reassure him, telling him all would be well. He wasn’t convinced. 

His torn, woollen tunic stuck to his body with semi-dried blood, was then ripped away from the wound under his ribs, causing him to scream out involuntarily. Gasping for breath, he could feel the renewed flow of warm blood trickling from his left-hand side and down across the cold skin of his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in agony, but he was being held in a vice-like grip that made movement impossible. 

A familiar bearded face appeared in front of him and grinned. The man told him he was lucky and then jammed a wad of worn leather into his mouth, between his teeth. Although Ianto’s first reaction was to spit it out, the sight of the glowing iron rod that the man lifted from the fire persuaded him that it had been given to him for good reason. He sank his teeth into it and bit down hard.

The pain was excruciating as the red-hot metal made contact with flesh, hissing as it cauterised the wound. Ianto made no effort to retain consciousness. His screams of agony petered out as he collapsed, limp-limbed, into the arms of his fellow warriors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The laser scalpel hummed gently as Owen reversed the setting, sealing the incisions he’d made to repair the damage to Tosh’s abdomen wall. The bullet had fortunately missed any major organs and he’d been able to cauterise the ruptured blood vessels neatly and efficiently, before irradiating the entire area with a sterilising beam. The singularity scalpel had proved to have a number of surgical applications and Owen was grateful to be able to put them into good use. He hadn’t wanted to waste time getting Tosh to St Helens, especially as they were still functioning with emergency power generators only. 

Owen stroked Tosh’s forehead gently. She’d been mostly conscious through the procedure as he’d relied on a local anaesthetic to numb the pain. Tosh has asked not to be knocked out completely. He could understand that. The Hub no longer felt like a safe place to be, what with escaped weevils, psychotic time agents and murderous members of Jack’s family on the loose.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Owen sighed. He looked up to see Jack appearing at the balcony of the autopsy bay first, adjusting the leather strap about his wrist. John Hart was following behind, looking sheepish and much smaller now he wasn’t strutting about pumped up with arrogance and braggadocio. 

Owen recalled how he’d thrown the emergency suture kit at Jack and told him he could fix up his own brother. What had made him feel particularly bad had been the fact that Jack just accepted it without passing any comment whatsoever. He’d looked beaten and down. It occurred to Owen that Jack’s past, being as long as it apparently was, had a whole store of horrors and skeletons just waiting to leap out and try to kill them. 

“Owen? How’s she doing?” Jack asked as he jogged down the steps, pointing at Tosh and looking worried. 

There were two IV lines set up – one steadily dripping the contents of a suspended bag of fluid into her veins and another replacing the blood she’d lost.

“Not too bad considering your kid brother tried to murder her-”

“Shh, it’s not Jack’s fault-” Tosh murmured, squeezing Owen’s hand.

“But it is my fault, Tosh,” argued Jack. “He could have killed you-”

“I know, but he didn’t – if Owen hadn’t been with me it would have been a different story, but luckily for me he was and I’m going to be alright. Aren’t I, Owen?”

“Yeah, once that IV antibiotic as done its job and you’ve finished the blood transfusion -”

“Owen, there’s too much to do, I need to -” Tosh began to protest.

Jack had moved to Tosh’s side and taking hold of her free hand, he held a finger to her lips, stopping her mid speech.

“Tosh – I am ordering you to follow doctor’s orders. Owen, your priority as of now is taking care of Tosh. I’ve locked up Gray in one of the maximum security cells. He’s got water and food in there for when he wakes up and we’ve removed every single weapon and gadget he had on him. They’re secured – don’t worry about them.”

“Are you OK, Jack?” asked Tosh, noticing that Jack’s eyes were red-rimmed as if he’d been crying.

“Not really. I’m just glad that the situation was contained – thanks to you two. We could be dealing with city wide disasters by now.” Jack swallowed hard as it dawned on him just how devastating Gray’s actions could have been. “God knows what could have happened.”

“But it didn’t, Jack, we’re still here and apart from a controlled shut down at the power station and the weevil attack on the police station, Cardiff is still standing.”

“I know – but I also know that I am to blame, for all of this. In the meantime, I don’t want anyone to go anywhere near Gray. He’s mine to deal with when we get Ianto and Gwen back. Is that clear? Both of you?”

“Crystal – trust me, Jack, if I never saw your bloody brother ever again it would be too fucking soon.” Owen shrugged apologetically as he saw the way in which Jack winced at his words. “Sorry…”

“It’s OK, Owen, I understand. It’s just that I have to …” Jack ran a hand through his hair as he made the effort to focus on immediate concerns, “… that first aid kit bag, did you finish putting it together?”

“Hang on – I just need to put in some bottled water and inflatable splints and then it’s ready to go. I see you’ve got his wrist strap thing.” Owen pointed at Jack’s wrist. “You going back on your own to find them?”

“Nope – I’m taking John with me. He knows where they were left… and if either or both of them are injured it’ll take two of us to bring them back.”

“Can you trust him?” Tosh asked.

“As much as he can trust me to make his life a living hell if we don’t find them.”

“He’s even given me a pretty bracelet,” John held up his arm to show a simple metal circlet. “Delivers several thousand volts if I stray too far from him. I s’pose I should be grateful it’s not going to blow me to bits.”

Owen and Tosh nodded as one, glad that Jack had taken some precautions with his ex partner. Neither of them trusted John Hart not to double-cross Jack again.

“Good – it suits you,” commmetned Owen, before fixing Jack with a glare. “I hope you’ve checked the bastard for concealed weapon. And he’d better not be lying about knowing where Gwen and Ianto are, or I might forget my Hippocratic Oath.”

“I’ve checked him, Owen – he’s clean for now. He said he put a tracker on Ianto, which should help us find them. John - what frequency is it set to? How are we going to trace it?”

“We need to be able to detect an etheric particle signal, NME, transmitting at 200 betacycles,” replied John, relieved that Jack had believed him and actually pleased that he might be able to do something to redeem himself in his ex-partner’s eyes. “I could fix up a portable device if you point me in the direction of the right kit-”

“My work station,” said Tosh. “There are some scanners –” 

“Those bleepy boxes with the blue lights? Thanks, I’ll see what I can do – if that’s alright with you, Jack?”

“Get the scanner and you can work on it in my office. There’s something I need to do before we leave.”

“What’s that?” John frowned, looking curious.

“I need to get changed.” Jack gestured at his bloodstained, tattered shirt and allowed a half-hearted smile to crease his lips. “I can’t let Ianto see me like this.”


	15. Chapter 15

The plaintive bleats of sheep echoed in the early morning, hanging suspended in the air, as if they were being conjured up from the swirling swathes of mist that rose up from the river valley below. Their shaggy fleeces, sodden with heavy morning dew, snagged on the tall reeds as the sheep picked their way carefully along the tracks next to the stream. 

It was the sounds of the flock that alerted the villagers to the imminent return of their young men. The settlement had been uneasy in the days that had passed since they’d set out on their mission. Gwen had barely slept in over a week, worried sick about Ianto and in fear for her own safety, too. Before he had left, Ianto had given her a sharpened knife and had also fashioned a spear from a broken blade and a stout sapling. She’d kept both close to her night and day as she’d waited with increasing anxiety. That morning, hearing the rousing of the village, Gwen had leapt to her feet, tucked the spear back into its hiding place and slipped the knife into a leather bag that she tied to her waist with a belt. She followed the sounds of the agitated voices, through the main gateway out of the compound and beyond the narrow fields towards the valley.

Men on horseback emerged from the mist, stationed at strategic positions guarding the straggling flock of sheep. Gwen could just make out Ianto, towards the rear of the group, his face pale and gaunt in contrast to the dark beard that he had grown. He appeared to be slumped forward slightly, his head tilted down so that stray curls of hair had fallen across his eyes. Slung loosely around his shoulders was a dark red cloak, fastened with a large annular pin on one side. Gwen waved at him, but he failed to respond. It occurred to her that perhaps Ianto hadn’t been expecting to see her.

As the riders drew closer, Gwen frowned as she noticed that Ianto seemed to have lost his tunic, but with his right arm wrapped around his body it was impossible to be certain. He was holding the reins loosely in his left hand, the stocky, chestnut coloured mountain pony apparently responding to the lightest of commands. Its long mane flicked back over Ianto’s hand, unruly black strands in stark contrast to the crooked white blaze on its nose. Gwen grinned, delighted to see Ianto back and was about to rush forward to tease him about getting his pony, but something seemed amiss and she couldn’t work out what it was. 

Various villagers, including a few of the older men, younger women and children pushed past her, eager to herd up the sheep and put them in pens for safe keeping. She heard calls for beer and meat, it seemed that a celebration was in order. Memories of beer and pizza back in the Hub, after a successful day, with the whole team, skimmed like flattened stones over the surface of her memories. Loud barking caused her to let go of those daydreams, as two dogs hurtled past her, having been let off their leashes to aid in herding up the flock. 

Gwen watched on, getting increasingly concerned by the fact that Ianto had yet to raise his head to look around him. The other riders had already dismounted and were handing over reins to the excited children who had been given the task of leading the ponies to the paddocks. Then two of the men approached Ianto and reached up to help him clamber clumsily from his mare. One of them passed the reins to one of the older boys, who led the pony away with the others. As Gwen ran towards Ianto, she could now see that he was clutching a bundle of red stained cloth to his side as he walked stiffly towards her. It then dawned on her why he’d seemed so distant: he’d been hurt. Badly. 

Gwen could only stand back as the men took charge of the situation. Ianto was carried back to their shabby hut and then laid down carefully on their bed by the fireside. The men then rushed off, barely acknowledging Gwen’s presence.

“It could have been worse,” mumbled Ianto, finally looking up, daring to meet Gwen’s furious glare.

“Ianto – you’ve got a hole in your side! It’s half stitched up and oozing pus… and your skin is …” Gwen swallowed down a lump in her throat as she pointed at the wound that she could now see in horrific detail. “It’s blackened and burnt around the edges. You tell me, just how the fuck could that be worse?”

“What I saw…” whispered Ianto, slowly shaking his head. He winced and shut his eyes tightly, desperate to dislodge awful visions. “Trust me, it could have been much worse.”

Gwen sunk to the floor by his side and grabbed hold of his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it? What happened? Tell me-”

“No. No, I don’t want to talk about it, Gwen. Really, really… just, no.”

Before Gwen could say another word, a group of people entered their hut, an older woman and two young boys. They brought with them a collection of pots and leather bags that were placed on the platform to the side of the entrance. One of the boys carried rolled up sheepskins and rugs that he unfurled next to the fire. The older woman clapped her hands impatiently and the boys scooted out quickly, leaving her alone with Gwen and Ianto.

Gwen couldn’t work out the age of the woman, she could have been anything from forty to sixty, her skin leathery from exposure to the wind and sun, her greying hair braided into a long plait that hung low down her back. She set out a number of items on the dusty floor: some weeds that looked like goosegrass, a narrow-necked flask and a selection of puffballs. Gwen recognised the fungus as they’d collected the fresh ones and eaten them after slicing and roasting them on sticks. 

The flask was opened and passed directly to Ianto who sniffed the contents and pulled a face.

“What is it?” asked Gwen, suspiciously, keeping her voice low, so that the older woman wouldn’t hear that she was speaking a different language. 

Picking up on her anxiety, Ianto turned his head to whisper directly in her ear.

“Smells like honey and paint stripper –fermented.”

“Like mead?”

“Not quite … but I could do with a drink, so what the hell…” 

Ianto took a cautious sip from the flask and then, at the prompting of the healer, who was examining his wound, took a longer slug of it. The rawness of the alcohol made his throat burn and he fought not to have a coughing fit, knowing that it would only make his side hurt more, if possible. 

“Oh… fuck…” he gasped hoarsely.

“That good? Or that bad?” 

“Shit … I can already feel the hangover hitting, put it that way.”

Gwen held his hand tightly, knowing from the way he squeezed her own hand in return that he needed more comfort than he was letting on.

The healer proceeded to make a poultice with the herbs and the flesh of the puffball, which she told them would clean the wound and stop the bleeding. It stung as she applied it to the raw edges of the cauterised tissue. Gwen held onto Ianto’s hand and stroked his brow, muttering soothing words as she watched the tears of pain well up in his eyes and saw how hard he was biting down on his lower lip. She wanted to tell him it was alright to cry or to scream out if it hurt, but she sensed that it wasn’t what he needed to hear.

Once the wound had been cleaned up and the poultice applied, Gwen was horrified to see the woman place strands of cobweb across the cut edges. She almost made a scene until Ianto hushed her, telling her that the silk was strong and would help hold the edges together as they healed. Part of the wound was left open to allow the infection to drain, the older woman instructing them to let the badness flow freely and not to try to cover it up. Gwen nodded solemnly, figuring out that Ianto would explain what the woman had told them later. She just hoped that she was doing the right thing in trusting to the ancient wisdom.

After the healer left, Ianto gulped down half the contents of the flask, curled up on his uninjured side and eventually passed out. Gwen rolled him over gently until he was lying on the sheepskins that had been by the boys earlier and then covered his legs with the rugs. He looked so very young and vulnerable, his lips parted and his brow creased with a slight frown. Gwen wished she could have taken better care of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the following week, Ianto’s wound seemed to respond to the treatment, although it still looked angry and sore, at least he didn’t succumb to blood poisoning. But he seemed remote since returning from the foray to recapture the stolen sheep, detached and distant. 

It had been from listening to the conversations of the women who brought supplies to their hut, that Gwen figured out Ianto had been responsible for cornering the leader of the renegades. Apparently, he’d killed the man and that had made Ianto quite a hero, something he didn’t accept and wouldn’t explain why to Gwen. However, it did mean that they were provided with gifts of dried meat, other foodstuffs, rolls of woven fabric and more flasks of the fermented grain, sweetened with honey. 

Ianto had taken to spending more time alone, or out in the paddocks, apparently talking to the pony he’d been given in payment as agreed. The chestnut mare recognised him and seemed to enjoy his kindly treatment of her, especially the treats he would take for her. She’d flick her black mane back and whinny appreciatively as he approached.

“Have you given him a name then?” Gwen asked shyly, not sure if she should have sneaked up on Ianto as he leaned against the stone wall surrounding the paddock.

“She’s a mare, not a stallion. I call her Myfanwy …” Ianto softly rubbed the mare’s nose as she butted her head against his shoulder.

“But-”

“I’m not going to get them mixed up now, am I?” retorted Ianto, rolling his eyes.

A slight smile graced Ianto’s lips, the first Gwen had seen since before he’d ridden off with the other men.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she,” said Gwen, reaching out to stroke the flank of the pony.

“Yes, she is,” replied Ianto, draping an arm around Gwen and pulling her close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The winter solstice arrived in the midst of a bitterly cold spell. Ianto and Gwen had been grateful for the extra sheepskins and rugs, as well as their extended welcome, courtesy of Ianto’s service to the clan. They were invited to join in with the celebrations.

The whole community gradually congregated in the central open area, bringing bread and beer to accompany the meat that was roasting on the open fire. Neither Gwen nor Ianto wanted to be present when the animals were slaughtered as a sacrifice to some god of fertility and they had waited in their own hut until it was over before venturing out. They didn’t need to say out loud the thoughts that plagued them both. Neither of them knew how they were going to adapt to such a different way of life. 

As the evening progressed, the area was lit up with many smaller fires, lighting up the longest night, dispelling the darkness, until just before dawn. As the first glimmer of light appeared on the eastern horizon, the flames of all but the central fire were extinguished and, as a group, the clan moved out towards the hillside to greet the rising sun. Amidst cheers and drunken revelry, the clan eventually scattered, couples clutching at each other, flushed with the lust of sleeplessness and alcohol. Ianto and Gwen had also drunk more than they intended and needed to support each other as they stumbled back towards their hut.

Collapsing onto her back on the pile of furs and rugs, Gwen giggled as Ianto tripped over her feet. He braced his arms just in time to stop from crushing her, but not enough to keep from lying on top of her, their noses almost touching, their warm breath mingling as their lips met. Gwen wrapped her arms around Ianto pulling him down against her body, feeling his lean, muscled frame pushing her down. Without pause she pressed her lips against his, teasing his mouth open with her tongue and kissed him as if her life depended on it. It was wet, messy and uncoordinated, the alcohol having taken the edge off any finesse, but they only stopped when they had to break for air. 

Her eyes darkened with lust, her body desperate for the touch of a lover, Gwen slid her hands down, tugging free the belt that fastened Ianto’s trousers and reached in to grasp hold of his firm, muscular buttocks. She could feel him growing hard against her, his erection pressing into her thigh. 

_Oh god, she wanted this so much … she needed this so much …_

Her body aching for more, again she assaulted Ianto’s mouth, glad to find him reciprocating just as eagerly. Taking one of his hands she slid it under her tunic, placing it on her breast, wanting to feel his fingers on the soft, neglected flesh. 

In a haze, Ianto was suddenly aware that he was fondling Gwen’s breast. 

_Oh god, what was he doing? He couldn’t._

Images came to Ianto of Jack dancing close with Gwen. He’d been so damn jealous … and now he was doing what he always feared Jack wanted, but he knew that Jack hadn’t. Despite all Jack’s flirting and bragging, he knew that he was totally faithful to him, had been, would be, whatever… It was too soon, he still clung to those memories of Jack’s hands and mouth on his body… their bodies slick with sweat as they held onto one another, too breathless to talk. He had to hold on to those memories, they were all he had left. It struck him that if he let nature takes its course with what was happening between him and Gwen, he’d lose all of that. He couldn’t. It was too soon.

“No! No, Gwen! I can’t …I’m sorry…”

With tears in his eyes, Ianto pushed himself away from Gwen and dashed out of the hut into the dawn. Gwen lay there, raising her hand to her mouth and biting hard on it she held back the sobs. 

_What had she done?_


	16. Chapter 16

On the sofa under the dragon mural lay Tosh, her head nestled on a pile of pillows and her feet up on a cushion. There was a soft blanket tucked around her legs, and she was wearing a lab coat in place of her bloodied shirt. Owen brought over a mug of tea and placed it on the coffee table. As he dragged the table closer to the sofa the tea sloshed over the rim, creating a milky puddle on the surface of the coffee table.

“Ianto would have a fit if he saw that,” remarked Tosh, wishing he was there ready to roll his eyes and fling a coaster at Owen like a Frisbee.

“He’s not here – and I promise not to tell him when he does get back.”

Owen sat down on the floor next to Tosh, his legs bent at the knee as he leaned his head back onto the edge of the sofa.

“He’ll know, he always knows,” Tosh continued. “The size of the watermarks will allow him to deduce whose mug it was.”

“So that’s how he always catches Jack!” Owen chuckled with amusement. “I just thought he used the CCTV to spy on coaster transgressions and abuse of biscuit privileges.” 

“I think Jack does it on purpose – he enjoys getting in trouble with Ianto.”

“I bet he does. I hate to imagine how Ianto disciplines him for bad behaviour...”

“I’ve got footage if you’re really interested-”

“No! It’s bad enough imagining, never mind seeing-”

“It’s quite …” Tosh trailed off, raising an eyebrow as she searched for the most apt description. “… educational in a way. Still sure you don’t want to see it?”

“I’d rather watch Janet seduce the pterodactyl to the soundtrack of Grease.”

Tosh laughed out loud and then sucked in a breath as the involuntary movement caused a sudden pain to flare up in her side.

“You OK? Sharp pains like that are to be expected if you over exert yourself, so try to lie as still as you can.”

“That was your fault. I’ll never be able to look at Janet again without thinking she needs a black leather jacket.”

“I’ll make sure that Jack finds her one. As for this mess, I’ll clean it up before Ianto gets chance to see it- OK?”

“Do you really think Jack’s going to find them?” Tosh asked earnestly. 

Owen shrugged, not wanting to put his concerns into words. They’d accepted that Jack and John were just popping back in time to collect Gwen and Ianto as if they’d just been on a day trip to the Iron Age. Nobody had expressed any reservations about the feasibility of the mission, no one had dared. Especially not to Jack. 

Before setting off, Jack had reappeared from his office in a fresh, dark blue shirt, clean trousers and what looked suspiciously like a cleaned coat. He held his chin up defiantly and had set his mouth into a toothy grin; a façade of confidence hastily re-constructed, behind which he carefully concealed his fears. Unfortunately, the way he refused to make direct eye contact with either Tosh or Owen, as he hugged them before setting off, spoke volumes. They both realised that if he didn’t succeed in bring Ianto and Gwen safely back to them, then they probably wouldn’t see Jack again either. He had taken leave of them, there and then, just in case.

“Owen, do you think Jack did the right thing, taking John with him? Can he trust him?”

“I don’t think he had a lot of choice. Mind you, I think that if Jack doesn’t find them, he’ll be using John Hart for target practice.” Owen just hoped that he’d get a chance to get in a few shots himself if they didn’t find Ianto or Gwen. “But it won’t come to that, I’m sure of it - you know Jack, he won’t give up until he gets them back.”

Owen wasn’t quite as confident in Jack’s likelihood of success as he made out, but he was sure that he wouldn’t leave a stone unturned in his search for their friends.

“What’s that noise?” Tosh sat up straining to hear the unfamiliar tune that had erupted from the Hub. An irritating melody repeated itself over and over again.

“Mobile?”

“Not my ring tone –yours?” 

“No fucking way … hang on, it’s coming from your desk.” Owen got up and walked briskly over to Tosh’s work station. “Oh, shit, it’s Gwen’s phone and guess what? It’s Rhys calling.”

“What do we do? Should we answer?” Tosh had her hand to her mouth, wondering how the hell they were going to explain to Rhys what had happened. 

“And say what? Sorry, Rhys mate, Gwen’s not here right now but I’ll get her to give you a call once Jack fetches her arse out of the dark ages?”

“No! Anyway, technically she’s in the Iron Age, if John was telling the truth – that’s much further back in time.”

Before Owen could snap out a reaction to Tosh’s insistence on precision, the phone stopped ringing. Their hopes that Rhys would leave it alone were dashed when a couple of minutes later they were alerted to the fact that a text message had been received.

“Read it,” instructed Tosh without hesitation. “Perhaps we can send a text back to put him off?”

“OK – but if it’s private and porny, I’m telling Gwen that you made me do it.”

Owen opened the text. It didn’t take much to work out that Rhys was evidently panicking:

_Babe- talk 2 me! Was that bomb anything to do with TW? Your mate Andy’s i/c cops, bosses killed by escaped zoo animals he said. Let me know ur ok!!! luv Rxxx_

“Shit,” swore Owen. “Of course, the explosions would have been all over the local news reports tonight, not to mention the murders at the police station and the shut down at Turnmill nuclear plant.” 

Owen realised belatedly that it was normally one of Ianto’s many jobs to deal with the media, using the codes associated with orders for press silence in cases where national security was at risk. He usually got on with it in such a way that the rest of them just took it for granted, like a lot of things Ianto did for them and for Torchwood. Under normal circumstances, Rhys would be blissfully unaware of the dangers that Gwen had faced during her average day. 

“What the fuck should we tell him?” demanded Owen, waving Gwen’s phone in the air.

“Give it to me. I’ll reply, he won’t know it’s not Gwen,” stated Tosh, taking charge of the situation. “I’ll tell him not to worry, that Torchwood is taking care of it, but we’re very busy and that he should stay at home out of danger.”

Tosh quickly thumbed in the message, adding a few hugs and kisses for good measure and hit send. 

Within moments a reply came back, informing them that Rhys would make sure he gave Gwen the ‘special treatment’ when she got home. 

“The ‘special treatment’?” Owen raised an eyebrow and looked to Tosh as if expecting her to be able to enlighten him.

“I have no idea and I don’t actually think I want to know.” Tosh shuddered melodramatically and giggled.

“OK, disaster averted for now,” sighed Owen as he put the mobile phone down on the coffee table. He perched on the arm of the sofa, near to Tosh’s feet. “Imagine what would happen if Jack got back with Gwen and found Rhys waiting on the doorstep for him? That could get messy…”

“Please don’t – the wedding was bad enough. It was only thanks to Ianto that Rhys didn’t test out Jack’s mortality at the reception.” 

Tosh smiled fondly at the memory of Ianto cutting in on Gwen and Jack’s dance to get the captain to himself for a slow dance. She’d been so proud of him that night, he could have left the disco to someone else and just hit the bar, he’d looked ready to do that at one point, but instead he’d stood his ground and asserted his claim on his man. 

“Tosh - we never did get that date, did we, you and me?” Owen’s voice was hesitant and gentler than usual. He didn’t look her in the face, but tentatively ran a finger along the insole of one of her stockinged feet that poked out from beneath the blanket. “We sort of… missed each other. It was my fault. I didn’t... didn’t notice until it was too late. I’m sorry. Maybe once this is all over? Probably not dinner or a drink, in the circumstances … you mentioned a game of pool once upon a time, yeah? Still fancy that? Just you and me.”

“Yes – that would be fun. Thank you, Owen.”

Owen smiled at Tosh indulgently and wondered why the hell he’d waited until it was too late to notice what a gorgeous, funny and intelligent woman she was. She was also brave and strong, much more so than he’d given her credit for in the past. It occurred to him that Torchwood was overrun by selfish idiots who didn’t appreciate what they had until it was taken away from them. He wondered if Jack would ever acknowledge just how much Ianto meant to him, he never showed it much in front of the poor bastard, but Owen had just seen him almost go to pieces when he thought he wasn’t going to be able to get him back. Jack Harkness may have all the time in this world, and the next few for that matter, but he needed reminding that Ianto didn’t. A kick up the arse was in order and Owen had big feet.


	17. Chapter 17

It hadn’t taken long for the experienced Time Agents to figure out a possible reason why Gray had failed to find Ianto and Gwen. It had occurred to them that he had made the fundamental error of only going back in time, without considering location. Cardiff Bay was a totally different place than it had been two thousand years in the past and was a good few miles from where Torchwood had investigated the anomalous energy signatures. Jack had proposed that they stood a better chance of finding the precise location if they transported from the place where Ianto and Gwen had been originally taken. Although Jack could summon up the co-ordinates he didn’t want to take any chances. 

By the time they approached the abandoned warehouse it was dark and the emergency services had long since left the site, leaving behind barricades and tape fencing off the area. Jack was not in the mood to let a few ‘Danger- Keep Out’ signs deter him and just drove the SUV straight through the barriers. John chose not to make any comments on Jack’s driving, but he did breathe out a sigh of relief when he heard the engine being switched off. 

Moments later, the passenger door was pulled open and the medical kit bag shoved into John’s face.

“Carry that and take me to the exact place where you found them.” 

Jack had his gun aimed at John’s head, making it clear how little he actually trusted him. 

John ducked his head and bit his tongue before making references to it being just like old times, he suspected that Jack wouldn’t be in a nostalgic mood.

“Lead on, Macduff,” muttered John as he nodded in the direction of the upper floor. 

“You do realise that Macduff killed Macbeth for assassinating the king?” responded Jack, scowling at the man who he still held responsible for everything that had happened that day. 

“Bollocks, when did you become so bloody literate?” asked John. “I bet that’s Eye Candy’s influence – isn’t it?”

“Ianto.” Jack stopped mid-stride, turned abruptly and pointed his gun at John’s groin. “Call him Eye Candy once more and I will make sure you walk with a limp for the rest of your miserable life. You go first, I don’t want you out of my sight. You’d better be certain that you remember the exact temporal co-ordinates, it’s the only reason you’re not locked up in a cell.”

“Yes, of course I’m sure. D’you think I’d lie to you? Seriously? Knowing what you’d do to me if we didn’t find your favourite team mates.” 

John turned away quickly as he hauled the medical kit onto his shoulders. He didn’t want Jack to see the sweat beading on his forehead, an old tell from whenever he was bluffing. He knew the year and could guess the season from the climate he’d briefly witnessed. It had been late summer by the warmth and the height of the sun in the sky. Either that or early summer. Or maybe autumn – that was possible. John swallowed hard. He never had the hang of the concepts involved in seasonal variations in planets with elliptical orbits. He decided that his best bet was to go for the latter option. 

As he led the way into the ruined warehouse, John continued his mental calculations for the adjustments necessary to make sure that they wouldn’t bump into either himself or Gray, which would be awkward, not to mention potentially catastrophic. It would also be a really bad idea to have that particular wrist strap access the vortex in the same timeline, it was their only way back and what’s more, there was no way he was risking any paradoxes and incurring the wrath of those bloody creatures that fed on them. He shuddered as he thought about the paradox guardians, they were nasty things and always gave him the heebie-jeebies. 

Stumbling over the rubble, it occurred to John that it wouldn’t hurt the Torchwood agents to wait a little while. After all, he figured that a few days, even a week or two wouldn’t do them any major harm, at least they were getting rescued, whereas Gray had intended leaving them there to rot. A small increment forward would be all that he needed, plus a fraction more to be on the safe side. As long as the tracker located them alive and in one piece, John was convinced that Jack would forgive him if his timing was a little off. 

Feeling more confident knowing that he still had something Jack needed, John took a chance and decided to bait his ex once more, just for fun.

“By the way, how does that work out with Tosh and Owen, knowing you don’t fancy them as much as the two we’re going after? Bet they bitch about the three of you behind your backs, wouldn’t blame them… mind you if it was me I’d’ve picked the Tosh… so, do you have a rota, or is it threesomes -?”

Jack’s reaction was too fast for John to process until he staggered away from the wall. His head throbbing, a sharp pain in his jaw and blood trickling down his chin, John figured out that he’d discovered where the line was. He’d seriously misjudged just how much this pair meant to Jack.

“Just saying, that’s all.” 

“Don’t!” growled Jack, fighting the urge to inflict more damage on John. Regretfully, he needed him conscious for a while longer. “Look around – is this the right place?”

“Yeah – anywhere round here should be close enough.”

Jack nodded, recognising the pile of rubble they had cleared away earlier that day, having found little more than a shred of Ianto’s jacket lining and Gwen’s phone. He glared at John as he held out his right arm to access Gray’s wrist strap. Although he was wary of allowing John to set the destination co-ordinates, there was no alternative. Taking John with him was also an insurance against any further treachery. 

“How far back again?” Jack tested him, making sure he hadn’t changed his story.

“One thousand, nine hundred and eighty years. If you want to set that and then I’ll factor in the adjustment for the days, so the final distance back will be just under that figure. OK?”

“So that would be, what, 28CE? Or 28AD if you prefer.” 

Jack winced as he realised just how primitive conditions would have been back then. He had been trying very hard not to think of what it would have been like for Ianto and Gwen. Being less populous at the time, he hoped that they would have been able to avoid the local population. As long as they weren’t too badly injured, they should have been alright without food or modern facilities in the short time they would have been there. But, however much Jack tried to rationalise the situation, his heart beating fast in his chest betrayed his anxiety. The sooner he retrieved them the better.

“I s’pose so – what technology are we looking at then?”

“Late Iron Age, so the good news is that we won’t get shot at, for a change.”

“That before or after the Romans arrive?” John asked out of curiosity.

“Before.” 

“Shame – I like centurions.” John looked wistful as he made a smacking sound with his lips. “And as for gladiators … mmm… feisty.” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t a fun outing into the past so you can play with the locals.” 

“Pity, those were the days… do you remember when we-”

“Not now, John. Just tap in the damn co-ordinates and shut up.”

As John finished the programming required, he allowed Jack to commit the time jump as he held onto the strap tightly. The golden swirls of vortex energy engulfed them as they were transported out of the derelict building in a brief, incandescent flash of light. 

The nausea abated quickly, although the crick in the neck was just as bad as the last time Jack had travelled by wrist strap, which had been with the Doctor and Martha Jones. 

The two men stood apart, letting their eyes become accustomed to the darker skies, devoid of any type of lighting at all; silently they took stock of their surroundings. It was long past sunset and the sky was overcast, which disappointed Jack as it meant there was no moonlight to see by, or visible constellations to gauge the time of year. There were, however, distant sounds of night creatures foraging or hunting as well as rustlings of animals in the thickets closer to them. 

Jack took a torch from his pocket, switched it on and slowly turned on the spot, sweeping the beam of light in an arc before him; they were in a clearing in a forested area it seemed. Sniffing the air, he couldn’t detect the presence of anything other than the natural scents of a woodland area. He pulled his coat tightly around his body, doing the buttons up single-handedly, the air was bitterly cold and there was a strong wind blowing. He really hoped that Ianto and Gwen had been able to find shelter.

Meanwhile, John was poring over the scanner, holding it close so that he could read the digital read outs. He slowly adjusted the settings to increase the sensitivity of the device.

“John – are you getting anything?” Jack asked nervously. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was immensely grateful that John had placed a tracker on Ianto; otherwise the odds of finding him and Gwen would have been stacked against them. 

“Yep – it’s faint, but the signal is definitely being transmitted from somewhere around here. It’s just further away than I’d thought it would be. They must have wandered off, which is good – means they’re not dead if they’re walking, right?”

“I guess so. Thank goodness.” Jack exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Which direction?”

“That way.” John pointed towards the furthest end of the clearing. “I suppose you want to go now and not wait till it gets light?”

“Start walking and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“It’s bloody cold here.”

John shivered as the cold wind cut through his thin shirt and begun to fasten up his red military jacket. He hated to admit to himself that he was actually beginning to envy Jack his long, woollen coat, although he’d never let him know. He frowned as he took a step forward and the grass crunched underfoot. Jack’s torchlight was picking up glittering ice crystals on the ground. As the beam of light swung out to pick up the silhouettes of the trees against the dark clouds that rushed past, John swore under his breath. He suddenly realised that he was in deep shit. 

“Fuck.”

“What is it, John?” Jack shone the torch straight into John’s face, recognising the expression on his ex-partner’s face. It was the look he had when he was about to be found out for having committed a particularly stupid crime.

“Nothing!” John held his hand to his eyes to cut out the glare. He started to smile in what he hoped was a convincing way and dropped it as soon as he caught the look on Jack’s face that informed him that his lie had been detected as soon as it passed his lips.

“Tell me what’s wrong, before I beat it out of you.”

“It’s just that it wasn’t quite this cold last time, that’s all. Weather must have turned… yeah and all the leaves have dropped off the trees.”


	18. Chapter 18

After the embarrassed awkwardness that followed the solstice festival, it took time for Ianto and Gwen’s relationship to return to where it had been before. 

The morning after the solstice, Gwen had woken with a raging hangover, alone in the bed, the hut empty. She eventually found Ianto in one of the livestock sheds, curled up alongside the chestnut mare; he hadn’t looked as if he’d got much sleep. She’d apologised profusely, blaming it on being drunk for the first time in several months and Ianto asked to be forgiven, saying that it wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive, it was just that he wasn’t emotionally ready to move on yet. Gwen hadn’t mentioned that the hard-on she’d felt pressing against her at the time seemed to suggest he needed the physical release as much as she did. 

They both agreed that it was just as well they’d not gone any further than they had, especially as drunken fumbles without any form of contraceptive could all too easily have resulted in an unplanned pregnancy, the thought of which made them both shudder.

Slowly, they returned to the friendship that had developed in the months leading up to the midwinter celebration. They continued to sleep in the same bed, for shared warmth, and after a week, they removed the rolled-up blanket from between them and resumed their habit of falling asleep in each others’ arms. It was an unspoken agreement that they provided each other with comfort, especially when the darkness and stillness of the night let in the fears and dreams that daylight kept at bay. 

It was when their guards were down, that the memories of their lost lives came to haunt them in their dreams. Gwen never mentioned the nights when Ianto held her about the waist and murmured Jack’s name against her neck, beseeching him to make it better, and Ianto never said a word about the mornings when she snuggled up and whispered sweet nothings to Rhys in her sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weather grew harsher after the solstice. There were wintry storms, heavy snow falls and weeks on end of bleak, slate grey skies. To keep the fire in the hearth burning night and day, Ianto would ride out for miles foraging for firewood that he’d tuck into the makeshift pannier bags that he slung over the pony’s back. He’d return from his trips loosely holding the rope tied to Myfanwy’s bridle as he walked alongside her. Gwen would fuss over him going out alone, but he always went armed with sword and knife and promised he’d avoid trouble. 

For his part, Ianto was grateful for the opportunity to spend time alone. The isolation of the wilderness beyond the village boundary fences seemed to reflect his internal loss and the loneliness of the barren moors echoed his own. True, he did have Gwen for company, but there were times when he missed the quietness that he used to share with Jack, where there was no emptiness in the silence between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neither of them were prepared for the toll that ill health and injuries would take on them without any access to healthcare they’d taken for granted. Never mind Owen’s store of alien medications and his hospital training, they would have been more than happy to be able to access the pharmacy department of a Boots store. A packet of Brufen and a tube of Savlon would have cured all sorts of ailments.

While the long walks may have calmed Ianto’s soul, they did little for his back, which continued to cause him discomfort, particularly when the weather was cold and wet. Gwen speculated that perhaps he’d fractured a vertebra when he’d been hit by the bricks as the bomb had gone off in the old factory. It made it difficult for him to get comfortable at night as the cold winter months progressed and often gave him sleepless nights. 

They both suffered from colds and something like ’flu, which they treated with some of the alcoholic mead-like drink. Ianto would heat it up by pouring some into clay beakers and then adding hot stones from the fire. It may or may not have treated the symptoms, but it allowed them to sleep more readily, oblivious to the aches and pains.

Somehow, Gwen managed to cope with her periods, too mortified to discuss just how with Ianto. Initially they had stopped, the stress of time travel and poor nutrition no doubt affecting her cycle, but as their routine settled down, they returned with a vengeance. Gwen was grateful when Ianto picked up on her moods and warmed up bowls of warm water for her, infused with dried herbs, and then left her on her own for a few hours at a time, saying he was going out on Myfanwy to collect firewood or some other task. She figured out that her mood swings made it all too obvious when ‘that time of the month’ had arrived once more. That’s when she really missed comfort food, and longed for chocolate or cream cakes, or a big tub of ice cream. A wrinkled apple and a handful of dried berries weren’t the same, and she’d found herself shedding irrational tears at the thought that she’d never indulge in a mocha with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles ever again.

The one serous health issue that really bothered Gwen, but which Ianto did his best to play down, was his dagger wound that had never healed completely. The sore puckered edges, where the red-hot iron had burnt the flesh, were always inflamed to some degree and despite careful cleaning the scarred tissue still leaked pus. Although the herbs usually managed to keep the infection under control, there were occasions when it got so bad that Ianto became delirious with fever and couldn’t keep food or water down. 

It was during yet another relapse that Gwen found herself sitting up with Ianto, a damp cloth at hand to mop his brow, keeping the long sweaty locks of hair out of his eyes. He had tossed and turned for hours on end, calling out for Jack, not stopping until he eventually lost consciousness, weak and exhausted. 

Setting the cloth to one side, Gwen gently rolled Ianto onto his side and lay behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, so that if he became agitated during what was left of the night it would wake her immediately and she could make sure he wouldn’t do himself further harm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they followed the signal, the icy wind blew sleet into their faces as they trudged across the frosty ground. 

John’s suggestion of waiting for daybreak was met with a vicious right hook from Jack, making it abundantly clear that there was to be no delay. As he spat blood from his mouth, John was reminded by Jack that he was still wearing the metal band around his wrist and that if he decided to stop moving, that was his problem, but Jack was going to keep moving, no matter what. The prospect of several thousand volts wasn’t that appealing, so John swore and kept walking, using Jack’s bulk as a windbreak.

They stumbled on, over the rough ground, John constantly complaining about the slippery ground or the weight of the medical kit that he’d been forced to carry. 

Jack was grim-faced and angry. He figured that for some reason, accidental or deliberate, John had brought them back at the wrong time and for all he knew it could have been months or even years since Ianto and Gwen had been left here. He kept praying to gods he no longer had faith in, that the signal being emitted wasn’t from a ring on a corpse. He needed Ianto and Gwen to be alive, but he couldn’t fathom how the hell they could have survived.

The trek through the wild landscape had been arduous, yet the signal led them on, taking them ever closer to where Ianto was, or had last been. Both men had frozen sleet sticking to the limp strands of hair that clung to their heads. Even with the collar of his jacket pulled up high, the wind penetrated, forcing icy currents down Jack’s back. He thought of Ianto in his lightweight suit and Gwen in her short leather jacket – neither of them was kitted out for this climate. 

“Oi! Hold up!” yelled John sharply. “Look over there. I can see smoke!”

Jack looked up and, squinting into the swirling sleet, he could make out drifts of grey smoke rising up and then melting away in the early morning light. 

Trudging on more cautiously, they carefully approached the source of the smoke, finding a village of circular thatched huts and rectangular sheds. 

“Is that where the signal is coming from?” whispered Jack.

“Yeah – on the outside edge by the looks of this, we could teleport in and then no-one would see us.”

“Where to?”

“Signal’s coming from inside that hut over there.” John pointed at the ramshackle round house near the outer fence.

“I guess we could. Hang on.” Jack opened the cover on his own wrist strap. “Just two life signs inside. OK, we’ve nothing to lose.”

Jack and John stood next to each other and, with fingers numb from cold, Jack keyed in the commands and grabbed hold of John’s hand, slapping it onto the strap as they both disappeared from the hillside to reappear in the dimly-lit round hut.

As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they could just make out two figures lying together, facing away from them and towards the smouldering fire. Under an assortment of threadbare blankets, a man and a woman lay entwined, both of them long-haired, the woman in a woollen tunic and the man bare-chested. Husband and wife by the looks of the way the woman had her arms wrapped around the naked torso of her bed fellow. 

Jack was livid. John had lied to him. These two couldn’t be Ianto and Gwen. Jack turned away from the scene ready to throttle John for having screwed up. He wanted nothing more than to scream at him and tear him limb from limb. He shoved the ex Time Agent hard against the side wall of the hut, causing him to fall back into a heap of pots. He was full prepared to kill him and leave him there to rot.

“Jack?” a familiar voice broke through the red haze of absolute hatred that threatened to block out all other sensations.

Looking back over his shoulder, Jack saw the woman crawl out from under the blankets and begin to approach him. She appeared nervous as if not believing her eyes. Her mouth fell open in shock, before morphing into a broad grin, the gap-toothed smile on her face confirming what his brain was having difficult accepting. Then she launched herself at him and hugged him fiercely. 

“Oh God. Oh, thank God!” yelled Gwen, her eyes welling up with tears.

Holding onto her tightly, Jack dared look over towards the other figure. The man had also been roused by the noise and had sat up shakily. Jack noted that he must have been sleeping with a knife close by, because the light of the fire glinted orange off the shiny blade. Although the man’s attire was unfamiliar and his hair longer and curlier, Jack would know those eyes anywhere, even though they were reddened and framed in a face that was now sporting a beard. 

Ianto sat up slowly, not breaking eye contact as he walked over towards Jack as if he thought he’d vanish if he moved too fast.

“I thought I’d lost you… that we’d lost you.” Ianto’s voice was deeper than the last time Jack had heard him speak and his accent was stronger than ever.

“Never.” Jack forced the word out, his throat tight with the sobs he was holding back. He reached out an arm to pull Ianto close to his side, revelling in the feeling of his lover leaning into him, resting his head on his cold, damp coat. “Never,” he repeated.

“Quite a queue for the hugs.” A semi-sarcastic drawl from the floor caused all three to turn in the direction of John Hart.

At the sound of John’s voice, Ianto tensed up and held on even tighter to Jack’s coat.

“Always has been, always will be.” Jack didn’t let go of either Ianto or Gwen, but he had found them, so he could afford to let his anger go temporarily. He also had to acknowledge that without John’s foresight with the tracker, he would never have found them. He nodded slightly. “Nice use of the ring.”

“Thank you. Least I could do.” John was surprised that he actually meant it. He was glad that Ianto and Gwen had survived and not just because it meant that Jack wouldn’t kill him. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Ianto demanded angrily, pointing at John, his eyes glittering with something feral and dangerous. Something that Jack had not seen before, nor John from the way he took a step backwards, looking genuinely alarmed.


	19. Chapter 19

For one fleeting moment, Ianto wondered if what he was having a particularly vivid dream brought on by the fever. But the body he was holding onto felt real enough – the strong, muscular frame within the heavy, woollen coat reassuringly familiar. The cold droplets of water on the collar had felt wonderful as he’d pressed his face into the fabric. Breathing deeply, it smelt right, the scents that managed to calm and arouse simultaneously, making him feel at home. 

He wondered what sort of cruel trick his subconscious was playing to tease him with the scent of Jack’s pheromones whilst simultaneously taunting him with the sound of John Hart’s voice. It occurred to him that perhaps the infection had got so bad that he was actually dying. If he was, he figured that it was as good a way to go as any, feeling as if Jack Harkness was holding onto him tightly, not wanting to let go. 

Shaking his head, Ianto reluctantly pulled away from Jack and turned around. He repeated his previous demand:

“What the hell is he doing here?”

“Ianto, sweetheart,” implored Gwen, also letting go of Jack. She was sufficiently attuned to Ianto’s moods to be able to pick up on the waves of fury rolling off her companion. He wasn’t well and she knew that she needed to intervene before he collapsed. “You need to-”

Ianto took one more step towards John Hart, who was sitting in the midst of broken remnants of pots and spilled grain. If the initial appearance of Jack in the middle of the night had seemed hazy and unreal, seeing the cocky grin on the face of that man brought it all crashing into sharp focus. 

Before Ianto could take action, Gwen suddenly grabbed hold of their home-crafted spear and thrust it at Hart, the point stopping mere millimetres from his throat. Her face set in a fierce expression that seemed almost feral, her lips pulled back over her teeth. 

“Ianto asked a question. What’s going on, Jack?” 

“I brought him with me – it’s OK.”

Jack held his hands out wide, wondering what he could say that would reassure Ianto and Gwen. He knew that there was no love lost between his ex-partner and the members of his team, and could fully appreciate their distrust. 

Glancing across to Jack, briefly appreciating the way the red glow of the fire lit up the chiselled features he’d struggled to remember, Ianto shuddered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the carved wooden hilt of his sword just showing from its hiding place. He took a slow breath, fighting back the pain from his wound to channel the adrenaline he could sense building up.

“Please don’t tell me you’re back with him again.”

“No – it’s not like that. I needed him to help me find you.” Jack reached out and grabbed his hold of Ianto’s arm to emphasise his point. “Long story short for now – he brought you back in time -”

“It was your fucking brother’s idea, not mine!” John protested adamantly. There was no way he was taking the blame for that, not with a rusty lump of iron hovering above his jugular. “I didn’t have any choice!”

“Brother? What brother? Jack?” demanded Gwen, not moving her spear from John’s pulse point, but throwing an accusatory look, that was almost as sharp, in Jack’s direction. He’d just reappeared in their lives after an absence of many months and already there were more secrets.

“Later, I’ll explain everything later.” Jack caught Ianto’s eye and saw him mouth ‘Gray?’ as a silent question. He nodded just enough for Ianto to see and then spoke out loud. “I promise.”

“It was John then… he dumped us here … not the rift?” Ianto asked, his voice lower signalling his growing anger. 

“You thought it was the rift?” Jack sighed, holding onto Ianto’s arm, reluctant to let him go. It made sense that Ianto and Gwen thought that, they’d both dealt with people stranded out of their time as a result of rift activity and as a result they’d have thought there was no way back. They would have been without hope of rescue.

“Well, after the explosions the next thing we knew was waking up in the countryside, miles from anywhere. We walked for hours before we found this village-” said Gwen beginning to explain what had happened to them. 

Whilst Jack’s attention was on Gwen, Ianto took the opportunity to break away and pulled the long sword out from under the bedding. Before Jack could react, Ianto was behind John and had the blade of his sword shoved under his chin, displacing Gwen’s spear.

“You left us there – unconscious, with nothing. No food. No water. Nothing.” Ianto was breathing harshly, his eyes burning dangerously with a glint that suggested that if John made one false move, one stupid quip, he wouldn’t hesitate in either maiming or killing him. “You left us there to die, you bastard.” 

“Ianto – there’s a queue for that and I’m nearer the front than you – let him go!” Jack spoke firmly as he moved slowly towards Ianto. 

Jack was startled at the sight of his lover crouching on the ground, bare-chested, brandishing a heavy iron sword as if he’d been born to it. This was a million miles from the Ianto that he’d last seen, clean-shaven and dressed to perfection in his gorgeous dark suit. This Ianto wasn’t going to politely ask permission, with an exaggerated ‘sir’, before running John through with a sword. 

“I promise you I’m going to make him pay for this. Please?”

“What else has he done?” Ianto growled, knowing Jack well enough to pick up on the times when he was leaving out important details. “Tosh, Owen – are they OK? That explosion – they weren’t hurt, were they?”

“They’re both still in the Hub – they’re safe.” Jack decided it wasn’t the best idea to tell him that Tosh had been shot. “Please, Ianto?”

John had wisely kept his mouth shut throughout this discussion; if Gwen’s spear had given him cause for concern, a wild-eyed, bearded Ianto wielding a massive sword scared him shitless. He gulped as he looked to Jack for help. 

However, it was Ianto’s partly healed wound that spared John Hart rather than anything Jack could have done. Ianto suddenly seemed to fold over on himself, his sword dropping to the ground as he clutched at his left side. Gwen took up the weapon quickly and held it at John’s chest, as Jack ran across to grab hold of Ianto before he hit the ground. He could feel the younger man becoming heavier in his arms as he partly carried him to the area where the rugs and sheepskins were piled up near the fire. 

“Jack, get him lying down! Get his feet up on that roll of rugs. Now! Quickly, before he blacks out.”

“Ianto?” Jack took hold of Ianto’s arms and helped him down to the floor gently. 

“I’ll be fine … just need to lie down …for a bit … that’s all.” Ianto allowed himself to be lowered down carefully onto the rumpled blankets and rugs, lifting his feet to allow a rolled-up blanket to be pushed under them. Despite the indignity it was better than fainting.

Jack placed a hand on Ianto’s flushed forehead, alarmed by how hot he was, especially considering the fact that it was quite chilly inside the hut and Ianto wasn’t wearing much more than a pair of loose woollen trousers.

“What is it?” Jack asked anxiously. “What’s wrong?” 

“Infection from where he got stabbed.” Gwen answered before Ianto had the chance to claim it was nothing. “It’s been playing up for the past few days now.”

“Medical kit – now!” Jack snarled at John. 

“Tell her to back off first!” yelled John, glaring at Gwen.

“Gwen – for now, leave him. He’s my problem.”

Jack had Ianto’s head in his lap, stroking the long curls out of eyes that seemed to shine more brightly with the fever. He had no idea where to look for an injury, so was glad when Gwen reached across and carefully prised Ianto’s fingers away from his left side to expose the wound below his ribs. Jack pulled his torch out from a coat pocket and switched it on to get a better look. The bright light showed the inflamed and weeping sore in vivid detail, the parallel rows of dark, round indentations either side showing where a crude needle had been used to suture the wound. In the dimly lit hut he had been focussing on their faces and hadn’t seen this.

“Fuck – that’s gross, looks like a radiation burn,” said John, with disgust as he passed the medical kit to Jack. 

“Damn, Ianto – what the hell did they do to you?” Jack was angry and shocked to the core at the sight of the stark red scar tissue and twisted flesh. It reminded him of some of the inventive ways the Master had toyed with him in the year that no one else remembered. 

“Red hot iron rod – cauterised the wound – probably saved my life.” Ianto explained for Jack’s benefit, taking hold of his hand. He could see how upset Jack was and didn’t want him labouring under any misapprehensions that he’d been tortured.

“Trouble is that they left it unstitched, so it could drain, and it just keeps getting re-infected,” explained Gwen, as she placed a pot of water on the fire to heat up out of habit. “Flares up like this every now and then, but never so bad before...”

“Oh, Ianto – we’re gonna have a long talk, you and me, when we get back to the Hub …” Jack muttered as he leant down to place a gentle kiss on Ianto’s lips. He had a suspicion that Ianto had suffered a lot more trauma than he was letting on and he needed to know just what he’d been through if he was to help him with the aftermath of this.

“You are taking us home then?” Ianto looked to Jack for confirmation.

“Yeah, soon as I get this cleaned up a bit and given you some shots.” Jack smiled at Ianto, touched by the look of trust in his face. “OK? Fancy some of that good stuff of Owen’s?”

Ianto nodded slightly before closing his eyes and sinking back into the sheepskin rug. He’d never admit it, but he secretly thought that even the best analgesics wouldn’t make him feel as good as having Jack’s arms around him once more. 

Quickly opening the medical kit, Jack retrieved the antibiotic shots that Owen had packed, alongside antiseptic wipes and sterile dressings. He set about tenderly cleaning the open wound as soon as he’d given Ianto injections of antibiotics and painkillers.

“Thank god you brought meds with you – the herbal stuff has been OK, but when it’s bad like this he gets sick, can’t eat or keep anything down, including the medicinal potions they want me to give him.” 

“You thirsty, Ianto?” Jack gently shook Ianto, before pinching the skin on the back of his hand. “We’ve got bottled water with us.”

Ianto nodded slightly and eagerly accepted one of the small bottles that Jack took from the back pack. It felt good to swallow cool water that didn’t have things floating in it. He noted that Jack had also given a bottle to Gwen, who looked delighted as she gleefully unscrewed the cap.

“You know he’s not fit to travel, not like that?” John stated, not unkindly, as he looked over at Ianto.

“Yes, I do –” Jack resisted the urge to raise his voice. He knew time travel wasn’t advisable if dehydrated, but the alternatives didn’t bear thinking about. “But he’s not staying here any longer than absolutely necessary. I want Owen to check him over as soon as possible.”

“Come on, even I know better. Never jump dehydrated or sick – golden rules that even a delinquent like me keeps to. No way is he going to make it without throwing his guts up.”

“He is still here.” Ianto stated vehemently, propped up on one elbow so he could drink the water. “Don’t worry, if I do vomit I’ll make sure to be facing you when I do.”

“Thanks for that. Nice to know you still love me.”

“Piss off, Hart.” Ianto drained the bottle and then lay down once more, closing his eyes as Jack dressed his wound.

“John – make yourself useful and build up the fire – there’s more firewood stacked by the wall over there.” Gwen pointed at the most distant store of dry timber, wanting to speak to Jack privately.

“Jack – just how did you get here?” asked Gwen in hushed tones. She had been wondering this for a while, but had only just had the chance to ask. “How are you going to take us back?”

“Wrist strap – this one, it’s not mine.” Jack lifted his arm to show the leather strap.

“OK. There’s more to this though, isn’t there? There are so many questions I want to ask you – but for now, Ianto has to be the priority. When we get back though-”

“I know, Gwen, trust me. I know.”

“Still here by the way – you can tell us both what the hell has been going on.” Ianto had his eyes shut, but he was still listening. “I expect there’s quite a lot we’ll have to catch up on.”

Jack frowned at Ianto’s words, wondering how to tell him that he’d only missed a day, even though it had been a very eventful one. He glanced from where Ianto lay on his back, taking a good look at the unruly curls that spread out about his bearded face, to Gwen, as she sipped from the water bottle, her hair in a long, scruffy plait that fell forward over her shoulder.

“Just how long has it been for you two?” Jack had already accepted that he and John were quite a bit out on their timing, the state of Ianto’s injury alone suggested that a lot more time had passed for them than he’d hoped. 

Gwen was confused, like Ianto she hadn’t considered that time had passed differently for Jack. She tilted her head to one side as she saw the deepening furrows of concern on Jack’s brow. 

“Look at that stick by the entrance- there are notches for every day that we’ve been here.” Gwen pointed towards the covered opening to the hut.

Jack did as Gwen suggested and picked up the stout stick. Carved into the bark were dozens of groups of notches, each group comprising of six short upright cuts, slashed through with a single horizontal one, therefore representing a week. He counted up the number of weeks, his face becoming grimmer as he proceeded. There were twenty-seven weeks’ worth of notches plus three single cuts.

“Twenty-seven weeks – nearly seven months.” Jack gasped in horror. “How the hell did you survive?”

“We survived because we had no choice – we were on our own. Like Ianto said we had nothing, they even took our clothes from us. We worked for everything, food, tools and clothes. Hard physical labour in the fields and with the animals - in all bloody weather – ’til our fingers bled and our feet blistered.” Gwen was on the verge of tears as she let go of the frustrations that had been mounting for months. “For fuck’s sake, Ianto nearly got himself killed riding out to fight with the other men, all to get us more supplies and a damn pony!”

“It was worth it – we’d have starved otherwise.” Ianto sounded as if he was revisiting an old argument with Gwen. “And they’d have thrown us out of the village as well if it hadn’t been for what happened …”

Jack made a mental note to talk to Ianto and Gwen about this incident, separately. Something had happened that had inflicted more damage to Ianto than the wound in his side, if the haunted look on his face was anything to go by. 

Jack fixed John with a cold stare as he added more broken branches to the fire. This was all his fault – he’d set the temporal co-ordinates on the wrist strap and because of that they hadn’t got here to rescue Ianto and Gwen until they’d already been stuck here for several months. He hated to think of the hardships they’d endured in that time. They were lucky to still be alive. Throwing the notched stick to one side he walked purposefully towards the ex Time Agent.

“When you said your adjustments may take us a little further into their time line, I thought you were talking hours, maybe days – not months!” The tone of Jack’s voice hinted at the rage bubbling beneath the apparently calm surface.

“A few weeks between friends – what’s that?” John smiled nervously as he pointed to Gwen and Ianto. “We found them, didn’t we?”

“Nearly seven months, over half a year!” Jack unleashed his fury as he grabbed hold of John and threw him to the ground, shoving his face down into the ashes surrounding the hearth. “That was no random miscalculation, was it?”


	20. Chapter 20

John Hart spluttered and spat out a mouthful of dirty ashes. He tried to lift his head, to look Jack in the eye, but apparently he was in no hurry to loosen his grip.

“Hang on, I did it for a reason! I had to make sure we didn’t bump into your psychotic brother – that’s all! I might have overcompensated, but it was a mistake! I swear … bloody hell!”

Not believing his ex-partner for one minute, Jack shoved a knee into the small of John’s back, preventing him from getting up and proceeded to push his face deeper into the ashes, not stopping even when he started to choke and cough as the fine dust was forced up his nostrils and into his throat.

“I’m tempted to leave your sorry ass right here,” snarled Jack. “Maybe drop back in a few years’ time – see how you’re doing.”

“No, Jack. Don’t leave him here,” growled Ianto, who had staggered to his feet, taking up his place at Jack’s shoulder. He had picked up his sword once more and was using it to point at John. “The locals have been good to us – they don’t deserve to have that piece of shit left on their doorstep.”

“No, they don’t.” Gwen chipped in, agreeing with Ianto. “But we don’t need to hear any more of his crap for now either. Move out of the way, Jack.”

“What?” Jack lifted his hand off the back of John’s head, puzzled by Gwen’s request. That was until a heavy stoneware storage jar was smashed against John’s skull, rendering him unconscious. The cracking sound made Jack wince.

“Much better. Thanks, Gwen.” Ianto patted Gwen on the back as she dusted her hands off on her long skirt. He kept his hand there, using her as a support.

“Excuse me guys, it may have slipped your attention, but I was about to beat the crap outta him!” Jack was furious, he couldn’t believe that his chance to violently vent his anger at John had been thwarted by an Iron Age pot. 

“Well I saved you the trouble. You could at least say thank you.” Gwen put her hands on her hips as she admired her handiwork. It occurred to her that John Hart made a fitting hearth rug.

“I was kinda looking forward to it – been putting it off until I actually found you two!” 

Jack stood up and seeing how shaky Ianto was on his feet, he reached out to hold onto his arm to keep him from falling over. He couldn’t help but be proud of the two of them, not only for surviving against the odds, but for still having enough fight left in them to knock John Hart out cold. 

“You could at least have let me get a few more punches in first.”

“Ah yes, and that would probably have resulted in this dwelling being razed to the ground. We’ve seen the aftermath of what you assured me was a friendly brawl between you two, remember?” Ianto pointed out as he leaned into the support offered by Jack. “This place may stink to high heaven, the roof leaks and there’s no running water – hot or cold, but we’ve come to think of this hut as home. I’d like to think someone else could still make use of it after we leave.”

Jack smiled despite the situation, delighted to hear Ianto being so pragmatic in the face of so many adversities. He saw Gwen trying not to laugh as she caught Ianto roll his eyes at the thought of the impact of a fight between Jack and John on their humble abode. Jack wasn’t sure how he’d have coped if he’d lost them permanently. He knew he would one day, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He pulled them both close to his chest, not wanting to let go. However, he was surprised to feel Ianto pull away from him. He was still unsteady on his feet, but seemed stronger than when he had collapsed and he had that determined look on his face that always worried Jack. 

“Now perhaps I can leave you two to sort out travel arrangements and trust you not to kill Hart while I’m gone. I’d rather not leave a dead body in here.” 

“Where are you going, Ianto?” Gwen asked, looking concerned.

“There are a few things I need to sort out before we leave. I won’t be long.” Ianto gave Jack a brief hug and kissed him quickly, whispering: “Don’t go without me.”

Ianto grabbed hold of a long woollen cloak that had been hanging from a hook on one of the posts and slung it over his shoulders, wrapping it around his chest to cover up the distinctly anachronistic wound dressing. He winced slightly as the movement caused a twinge of pain in his side, but the painkillers had kicked in, taking the edge off the discomfort.

“Ianto – what are you up to?” Gwen asked suspiciously.

“Anyone out there could have heard the commotion by now I think and I should go and say something before someone charges in, thinking we’re under attack.”

“Shit – I hadn’t thought of that. If they think we’ve brought in other outsiders-”

“I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

“Be careful, Ianto – Caderyn is looking for any excuse to pick a fight with you-”

“Exactly – that’s why we don’t want anyone coming in and seeing we’ve got visitors. Especially looking like this pair and not speaking a word of Welsh. It’s past dawn, there will be people up and about now, I should go deal with this quickly.”

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid.” Gwen grabbed hold of Ianto’s arm, keeping him from leaving. “Not now.”

“Hang on a bit – Ianto? Is it dangerous out there?” Jack was frowning now. He didn’t like the idea of Ianto wandering off into a risky situation, not when he’d only just got him back. “I thought you said the locals had helped you?”

“It’s complicated.” Ianto gave Jack a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe we’ll trade stories later?” 

“Count on it.” 

An unspoken promise was sealed with a look and then Ianto turned to Gwen.

“I also need to make sure Myfanwy will be cared for, OK?”

“Understood – but don’t make me come looking for you.” Gwen squeezed him tightly before releasing her hold on him. “Take care out there.”

“I’ll be fine. Please – let me do this and then we can go.”

“Ianto?” Jack was disconcerted by Gwen’s blatant concern.

“Not you as well, Jack? I’m not going unarmed and believe me, despite this scratch, I can look after myself. If I couldn’t I’d be dead by now.”

Before Jack could react to that parting comment, Ianto had disappeared into the cold sleet that was descending upon the village that morning. 

“Myfanwy?” Jack muttered, confused.

“His pony – he spends a lot of time talking to her.” Gwen smiled sadly. “I think he can tell her things he can’t speak of to another living soul.”

“What the hell happened to him?” Jack sighed, wondering what those seven months had done to his lover. 

“He kept us alive and that came at a cost.”

“You gonna give me any more than that to go on? Because you’re worrying me here.”

“All I know is that when he came back from that raid to recover stolen sheep, he came back with more than just that knife wound. There was a hell of a lot of blood in his hair, splatters on his face and it wasn’t his, no head wounds. He was in shock and not just from the injury.”

“And you couldn’t get him to tell you what happened?” demanded Jack, incredulous. He doubted that Gwen had lost her tenacity when it came to getting people to speak. He knew he’d told her far more than he would ever have intended to.

“No, I couldn’t! But he had nightmares for weeks after – and he called for you, every bloody night, he called for you in his sleep.” Gwen’s voice faltered as she saw the impact of her words on Jack. “Almost broke my heart. Whatever happened, he won’t talk about it and it’s eating away at him.”

Jack sat heavily onto the oily sheepskin rugs and held his head in his hands. He wished John Hart was conscious again so he could hurt him. If Ianto didn’t get over this, he would kill John in as painful and protracted a way as he could imagine.

Gwen sat next to Jack, lifting his chin so she could look him in the eye. 

“Jack, when we get back to our own time, you look after him and you treat him right, OK? Because if you don’t, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

“Don’t worry about that, Gwen, I fully intend to. I think that maybe I owe him more than I’ve been prepared to give.”

“Damn right you do – don’t be a bastard to him, Jack. Let him know where he stands, what he means to you. I mean it, he deserves better than I’ve seen you treat him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto shivered as the icy sleet rapidly drenched the clothes he was wearing. He hadn’t realised it was quite so cold. The animals would all be in the pens with hay and straw overnight and he headed for the thatched shed where the ponies were stabled. 

On the way, he’d bumped into one of the villagers, who looked at him with guarded suspicion in his eyes. Ianto automatically apologised for the disturbance from his hut, complaining vociferously about having a row with his woman. He made sure any others in the vicinity overheard him. At the other man’s understanding look, he’d then told him that he was going to talk to his horse as it spoke more sense. He was heartily slapped on the back and given the other man’s sympathies. 

Ianto figured out that it wouldn’t be long before rumours of a major break up between him and Gwen circulated about the entire village. Her temper was already notorious as she had expressed her frustrations with Iron Age facilities and amenities, or rather the lack of them, by screaming and swearing on frequent occasions. No one would go anywhere near their place if they thought Gwen was having one of her tantrums, which served them well. 

It was also an accepted fact that Ianto spent many hours with his pony, and their hosts believed he did so to get away from his nagging wife. That also suited Ianto on this occasion, because nobody would think anything of the sight of the bedraggled young man making his way through the horrendous weather towards the animal sheds. 

As Ianto entered the shed he bumped into the young lad that worked for the healer, given food and shelter in exchange for collecting herbs and helping to prepare poultices and potions. He had hoped that the boy would be there, making sure the horses and ponies all had fresh hay and clean water to drink. He was a quiet boy, barely fifteen and of a sensitive disposition. His name was Elisedd, which meant ‘kind’. He rarely spoke and hardly ever made eye contact with any other members of the clan. It was the respect that the others had for the wise woman that kept him unmolested and safe, nobody dared cause offence to the one person that stood between them and death were they to become sick or injured.

Ianto beckoned the young boy over to join him where he stood near to the chestnut mare. He placed the boy’s hand on Myfanwy’s mane and encouraged him to stroke her as she nuzzled up to him.

Ianto told the boy that he was going to leave that day with his woman and that they wouldn’t be returning. The boy asked no questions, it was as if he knew what Ianto was going to say. He then asked that Elisedd care for Myfanwy and ensure no harm came to her. Ianto then took the boy’s hands, turned them palm up and solemnly handed over his sword. The boy looked horrified that Ianto was giving away his chief means of defence. However, Ianto thought that it would be sufficient to show anyone who doubted the boy’s claims that they were indeed true. If Elisedd had Ianto’s sword, then it indicated that whatever had been his was ceded to the boy. That seemed the right and proper thing to do, it had been the healer’s skills had kept him alive until Jack had come for him and that was cause alone for immense gratitude.

Stroking the long, black mane of the sturdy pony who had been his confidante and companion for so many months, Ianto pressed a gentle kiss to the white blaze on her nose and bid her farewell. He roughly brushed away the tears that sprung to his eyes and turned away quickly; tugging his cloak about his shoulders he made his way back to the hut where he knew Jack would be pacing up and down impatiently. He idly wondered how much Gwen would have told him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack noticed immediately that Ianto no longer had his sword with him as he pushed aside the blanket that hung across the opening to the hut. He also saw that the younger man’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying.

“Are you OK?” asked Jack, as he pulled Ianto into a gentle hug, taking care not to put any undue pressure on the wound. He could feel that Ianto was soaked to the skin and shivering violently; he desperately wanted to warm him up at the earliest opportunity.

“Not yet.” The honesty of the statement came as a shock to both Ianto and Jack. To counter it, Ianto followed it with a gentle smile and false bravado. “Come on, take me home. I could really do with a hot shower and a coffee.”

Jack grinned as he coaxed Ianto to sit on the floor with him, across from where Gwen was already crouched next to a conscious, but silent, John Hart. He was gagged and his hands were tied in front of him. There was a thin trickle of blood from the back of his head onto the collar of his grubby red jacket. 

“We all need to be touching this strap on my right arm,” explained Jack, as he pushed back his coat sleeve and unfastened the strap to expose the controls beneath. “Must be skin contact or it won’t work. Chances are you’ll feel sick or light-headed or both – that’s normal. Don’t resist it. Are you ready?”

Both Gwen and Ianto nodded, nervously. They’d not been aware of the first time they’d been transported through time and this was all new to them.

Jack made sure that he placed Ianto’s hand on his arm first, then Gwen and last of all John’s tied hands. Then he tapped the buttons to confirm the co-ordinates he’d pre-set for the warehouse on the outskirts of Cardiff in 2008 and hoped that this vortex manipulator didn’t let him down. Leaning forward, he gazed into Ianto’s eyes and kissed him. Just in case.


	21. Chapter 21

It was on the way back to the Hub in the SUV that Jack finally broached the subject of the differential passage of time.

Because Ianto had been violently sick when they’d arrived back in 2008, he was sat in the front next to Jack, while Gwen sat in the back next to John Hart, who was cuffed to his seat belt. 

Both Gwen and Ianto demanded to know what they’d missed in the months they’d been away – Gwen anxious to know what Rhys had been told, how he was coping and Ianto wondering what state the Hub was in.

Jack cut off their questions by stating that less than a day had passed for him, Tosh and Owen, whilst they had been stranded in the past. Their individual reactions had been telling; Gwen ranted and struck John about the head several times, whereas Ianto just sunk back into the passenger seat, eyes shut, silent, as if having trouble processing the implications. 

Gwen eventually calmed down when Jack pointed out to her that because it had only been a day, at least Rhys wouldn’t have had the time to miss her. He pointed out that she had been away from home longer on many a normal working day at Torchwood. 

“Trust me, your absence wouldn’t’ve been missed – it’s only been a few hours after all.”

Then Jack swore under his breath realising that it was too late to take back the words that seemed to implicitly suggest that he hadn’t missed Ianto either, a quick glance to the left showed Jack that his words had already been taken to heart. Ianto turned his head to look out of the side window, probably not good after the nausea of time travel, but Jack thought better of telling him he’d get motion sickness unless he looked out the front window. He caught Gwen’s look in the rear-view mirror and shrugged as he wondered how he’d make up for that faux pas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Owen!” yelled Jack. “Get your scrawny ass over here now!”

Owen had been startled to hear the alarms and cog wheel grinding open. He hadn’t known quite when to expect Jack to return, but it hadn’t been this soon. He had been sat on the sofa, holding Tosh as she dozed, her head on his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Tosh asked, momentarily disorientated. “What’s going on?” 

Tosh awkwardly sat up to see what was going on. Owen was already on his feet rushing across to where Jack stood supporting an unfamiliar man, who was wrapped in a soaking wet, woollen cloak. 

As Owen drew closer, he was shocked to realise that it was Ianto - he had grown a beard and his hair was uncharacteristically long and matted. Jack’s arm was around his waist, while Ianto’s arm was draped over the other man’s broad shoulders, hanging on tightly. 

Glancing to one side, he was shocked to see Gwen as well. She was barely recognisable – wild-looking, her hair was roughly braided and she was wearing what looked like a coarse brown sack, with a thin cord tied about her waist. A far cry from her usual figure hugging attire. Instead of looking as if her clothes had been sprayed on, there was a roll of cloth bunched up around her waist and she looked totally bedraggled. 

One thing that was unmistakably Gwen, was the belligerent expression on her face as she shoved the barrel of Jack’s gun into John Hart’s back. The object of her disdain just stood there sheepishly, his hands tied in front of him, fresh bruises adorning his face. 

“What the fuck-?” Owen had expected their friends to have been injured, but it had never occurred to him that wouldn’t have been able to identify them at first. 

“Seven months!” Jack blurted out angrily. “Thanks to John, they were stuck there for seven months.”

“Fuck!” exclaimed Owen as he automatically started a visual assessment for injuries. “What’s wrong with Ianto?” 

Owen asked pointing at the grubby dressing he could see poking out from under the wet cloak.

“He’s got a badly infected knife wound and is still suffering the after effects of time travel,” explained Jack, tersely. “As for anything else, I want you to check them both out thoroughly – diseases – malnutrition, anything. Do whatever you have to.”

Having heard enough, Owen moved forward to support Ianto. Jack, in turn, took his gun from Gwen to take over custody of Hart. 

“Ianto?” Tosh asked, slowly approaching her friends, wanting to do whatever she could to help. “Are you OK?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” Ianto pointedly appraised Tosh, his eyes travelling slowly from her bare toes to her dishevelled hair. “You’re in your underwear with a lab coat on top and you’ve got a bandage wrapped around your midriff.”

Tosh blushed as she realised that she was also out of her normal attire. She hastily readjusted the lab coat, doing up the buttons that she’d forgotten had become undone.

“Shit – what happened, Tosh?” exclaimed Gwen. “Did this piece of shit hurt you?” 

Gwen glared at John, looking for any excuse to cause him pain. She wasn’t normally a vindictive or violent person, but there was something about him that brought out the worst in her.

“Hey – I wouldn’t hurt her!” protested Hart. “I’ll have you know she’s one of my favourites. Even if she did stick her heel in my nuts – or maybe that’s why I do like her.” 

John couldn’t help the lascivious grin that hurt his split lip. The brief glimpse he’d caught of skimpy, lacy, black lingerie covered up with a white lab coat just did things for him. It occurred to him that Jack still liked to collect pretty things.

“Shut up, John or I’ll gag you. Again.” Jack gave him a pointed look.

“Promises, promises,” muttered John. 

“No – it wasn’t him, Gwen,” said Tosh, shaking her head as she wrapped the lab coat even more tightly around her body. “Anyway, I’ll be fine now. Owen took care of me – but what about you two?”

“Reunions and debriefings later guys!” announced Jack, knowing there was a lot to be discussed, but there were priorities and it was up to him to make sure he took the lead. 

“Owen, I want you to check out Ianto’s wound, see what you can do. I’m going to lock John in a cell and do my best to resist the urge to throw away the key. Gwen, you might want to… um… freshen up a bit before going home to Rhys … um, you know …”

“Are you trying to say that I stink?” Gwen made out that she was offended and then grinned. “I know I do … I’m heading straight for the shower block and a disposable razor, maybe two.”

“What?” puzzled Jack, thinking he hadn’t heard right.

“Don’t ask. Please, just don’t ask.” Gwen had no intention of discussing her desperate need to remove seven months’ worth of body hair with Jack. “Tosh – if I run out of shampoo and shower gel is it alright if I use yours?”

“Please do- I mean of course you can. As much as you need.” Tosh stopped talking before she really put her foot in it. She could see how embarrassed Gwen was getting.

“Off you go, Gwen, but as soon as you’ve done that, I want you to see Owen before heading anywhere.” Jack didn’t like the thought of losing sight of her so soon, but he knew that she needed to get home to her husband as soon as she could. “I hate to think what you could’ve picked up back there.”

“Gwen, before you hit the shower, come down to the autopsy bay and let me give you something to make sure any fellow travellers you brought with you get killed before they make themselves at home in the twenty first century.”

“Fellow travellers?”

“Lice, fleas … external parasites generally.” Owen sighed as he regretted even bothering to try to use euphemisms. He just held out Ianto’s bare arm and pointed at hers. “Looks like you’ve both been bitten.”

“Oh shit, I just got used to them. We both did.” Gwen looked mortified and tried to cover her arms to hide the tell tale red splotches and scratch marks. She looked across to Ianto who smiled at her indulgently.

“Hey – just think of all that hot running water and soap,” said Ianto with a longing sigh. “No more skinny dipping in ice cold streams to get cleaned up. Or rubbing down with fleabane to kill the bugs.”

That was enough to make Gwen grin. He’d managed to remind her of the times when she’d screeched as she immersed her naked body in the freezing cold water, whilst Ianto gallantly stood guard waiting his turn. She caught Jack’s eye and she could have sworn he actually looked jealous, just for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone as he turned his attention to John Hart who had an evil smirk on his face. Gwen could tell what he was thinking and was grateful when Jack took command once more.

“Gwen Cooper – go and get cleaned up. Ianto – let Owen sort you out, and don’t hide anything from him. If it hurts, tell him. I don’t want you collapsing on me later on because you kept important medical details from our doctor, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Ianto let Owen lead him towards the autopsy bay, with Gwen walking beside him, lending a hand and Tosh following at a discrete distance.

Jack shoved John Hart into the lift and as the doors slid shut he looked out as his team supported each other. It occurred to him that he was lucky to still have them all alive and more or less well. No thanks to his ex partner though. He’d nearly got them all killed. And then there was Gray. Later. For now, he wanted to focus on what he had almost lost. Later on, he’d deal with what he’d probably lost for good.


	22. Chapter 22

Owen was appalled at as he carefully peeled away the dressing put on the wound by Jack back in 28 AD. In response to his demands to know just ‘what the fuck’ had happened to him, Ianto described what he recalled of the stabbing itself, the red-hot metal cauterisation, the fungus poultice and the cob webs, all to Owen’s utter horror. He proclaimed that it must have been the Torchwood vaccination programme that had kept Ianto alive, because the treatment he’d received bordered on barbaric. 

“Bloody hell, what did they use to stitch you up with? Looks like it might have been a knitting needle, looking at the size of those holes.”

“I wasn’t conscious when that was done, thank god … you should’ve seen the thread they used.”

“Real animal gut?”

Ianto just nodded, looking faintly sick.

“Shit.” Owen chose not to make any further enquiries along that line. 

Scans beneath the surface of the skin indicated scarring to the spleen, evidently damaged when he’d been stabbed. Owen wasn’t happy about that, and checked carefully to ensure there were no underlying haematomas waiting to rupture – but it seemed as if the hot metal approach had effectively sealed off any broken blood vessels in the spleen at the time of injury, significantly reducing the amount of internal bleeding and preventing further organ damage. 

Ironically modern surgical techniques also used heat cauterisation, but not in quite such a radical way. There was some adhesion of internal membranes that he’d like to treat at a later date, laparoscopic surgery and the laser scalpel would prevent any further problems developing, but for now there was no immediate danger, so Owen elected to leave it until Ianto had recovered from the infection. 

“Right, I’m going to anaesthetise your side, remove this necrotic tissue, stop you getting gangrene and sterilise the whole area to get rid of the source of the infection,” explained Owen. “I also want to take some blood, I’m pretty certain both of you are anaemic, low on vitamins and possibly infected with internal parasites as well. I need to check your neutrophil and CRP levels-” 

“Do you actually need to do that to figure out it’s infected?” interrupted Ianto, with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I don’t, smartarse. But I don’t want to risk missing anything.”

Owen wiped the inside of Ianto’s elbow with an alcohol wipe, then again with a second one having seen the grime that had come away with the first one. He then quickly drew a few tubes of blood and set them to one side. After doing that he prepared the wound site for cleaning up, again dismayed at just how dirty Ianto’s skin was. He injected local anaesthetic into the surrounding area, hoping that it took effect sooner rather than later. 

“I take it that soap didn’t exist in the Iron Age?” complained Owen, tossing yet another wipe into the rubbish bin at his side, before injecting some local anaesthetic into the surrounding area, hoping that it took effect sooner rather than later.

“Believe it or not, smelling fresh hasn’t been the top priority for a while,” snapped Ianto, not believing that he’d not been back in the twentieth century for more than an hour and he was already getting annoyed with Owen.

“You’d better not bitch to me about how I smell ever again.”

“I thought you couldn’t smell anything?”

“Not the point – Tosh can and she was almost gagging after giving you a hug.” 

“Oh. That would be the imminent gangrene that you mentioned –”

“That and a holiday from hygiene,” stated Owen before pinching the skin next to the wound in Ianto’s side. “Right, can you feel anything?”

“No,” replied Ianto, lying smoothly. He didn’t care if it did hurt, he was used to discomfort and wanted the wound dealing with as soon as possible. If he was honest with himself, he was feeling detached, almost as if ready to pass out. He put it down to the time jump and found himself trying to recall the words to the ‘Time Warp’.

Ianto looked around at the trays of equipment as if seeing them for the first time. It would take a while for him to actually trust that this wasn’t another figment of his fevered imagination. He was almost dreading waking up and finding himself back in the smoky hut, lying on a smelly sheepskin rug with a rough woollen cloak over his back.

“You still with me?” Owen gently shook Ianto’s shoulder, noticing that he’d almost drifted off. He waited until Ianto’s eyes opened before continuing. “Good. Bad news is that this wound is a fucking mess, but you already know that. I can tidy it up a bit later once I know it’s free of infection. The laser kit I’ve got will repair the scar tissue on your abdomen. It’ll take time, but eventually it won’t look too bad.” 

“Thanks – it would have killed me, wouldn’t it? The infection.”

“To be brutally honest with you – yes. Slowly and nastily – until antibiotics were developed, infections like this were almost always fatal. But whatever they gave you did at least keep it in check.”

“Glad I gave him the pony then.”

“Oi – don’t go getting delirious on me! Jack’ll go mental.”

“Not delirious … just thinking about something I left behind.” Ianto winced as his back complained. The hard surface of the exam table was worse than the floor of their hut, if possible.

Owen took a good look at Ianto and could see that he was in some discomfort. He figured that the local anaesthetic he’d sprayed around the wound should have taken effect, so that wasn’t the cause.

“Anything else I need to know about, medical problems – aside from the insect bites.”

“My back –” Ianto frowned as if reluctant to mention it, but he’d have hell to pay if it gave way later on. Thinking of just how much he needed to spend some private time with Jack made up his mind for him.

“What about your back?”

“After the explosion, I had a lot of pain in my lower back. Sharp shooting pains up my spine, then after a while it just ached … I put it down to the hard ground we slept on and the cold and the damp – but it never stopped aching.”

“Turn over, onto your stomach, I’ll put a pad under your side.” Owen got out the Bekaran scanner once more and ran it slowly down the vertebrae in Ianto’s spine.

“Here?” Owen gently prodded where the scanner indicated there was a problem and the muffled ouch as Ianto bit into the pillow confirmed his suspicions.

“Yep – right on target.” 

“There are some hairline fractures in two of your lumbar vertebrae – mostly healed up now, but whatever did that caused the ligaments and tendons around the area to become slightly misaligned and inflamed. An osteopath should be able to put that right. Or I could give you the name of a really good masseuse – except Jack would only get jealous-”

“That or ask to join in-”

“Thanks for that image. I’ll bleach my brain later. Meanwhile, your discs are intact - no sign of ruptures or pinched spinal nerves, but if there had have been, you’d have known it because you’d have been unable to move.” 

“Not moving wasn’t an option,” muttered Ianto, as he recalled the hard physical work he’d been doing for the past seven months. 

“Yeah, well, you’ll live to brew another day, teaboy, but you might want to take it easy bending over. If you like, I’ll give you a medical note to keep Jack in line -”

“Don’t worry about that, he’s already treating me like I’m made of glass.” Ianto rolled his eyes, relaxing and trusting that he was truly back. His subconscious couldn’t match the real Owen for snide remarks. “Would you believe I was actually missing your bedside manner?” 

“Bloody hell – it must have been rough then. You can roll back over now and let me work my magic on this mess on your abdomen. I’d then advise that you grab a shower. Like you said, I’m lucky that my sense of smell went when I died, but from the look on Tosh’s face you need one as bad as Gwen.”

Owen glanced up in time to see Tosh wander into view. 

“Sorry, Ianto.” Tosh smiled as Owen pointed in her direction. “That wound of yours really is pretty disgusting though. Can I do anything to help, Owen?”

“If I give you the blood samples, can you start to run analysis on them for me?”

“Sure, no problem.” Tosh smiled as she gently squeezed Ianto’s arm as she walked over to collect the tubes of dark red blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owen wasn’t prepared to let Ianto leave to have his shower until he’d pumped him full of vitamins and iron supplements and made him drink two litres of rehydration solution. 

“I’m going to be going for a piss every half hour. Thanks, Owen.”

“No, you’re not, smartarse. You’re dehydrated and that’s electrolytically balanced, not just tap water. And no, you still can’t have any coffee, not ’til I’ve checked the blood work and probably not until tomorrow at the earliest. Another day won’t make much difference if you’ve managed seven months without it.” 

“One hundred and ninety-two days to be precise and I only had one cup on the last day I was here, and that was shared with Jack. You were bad enough after just one week if I recall -”

“Mitigating circumstances. Dead. Remember?”

The sound of running footsteps brought a halt to their mock hostilities as Jack bounded into the area, looking anxiously from one to the other. Both noted the fact that his knuckles seemed ever so slightly reddened and that he was trying to hide them but stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Owen? As you two are arguing, does that mean he’s gonna be OK?” Jack was pleased to see that Ianto was now sitting on the edge of the exam table, looking better than he had earlier. “Report please – everything, including the stuff he’d rather you didn’t tell me.”

“Confidentiality means nothing to you does it, Jack?” Ianto had long since resigned himself to the fact that what Jack wasn’t told, he’d find out one way or another. It was easier to take the path of least resistance and just tell him everything.

“I can’t look after you if I don’t know all the facts. Go ahead, Owen.”

“Apart from the gross infection by bugs I probably haven’t seen outside of a path lab, he’s running a slight fever, is underweight, dehydrated, borderline anaemic and has suffered damage to both spleen and spine.” 

Owen paused for effect, having resolutely ignored Ianto’s unspoken pleas to understate the condition he was in. However, the look of shock on Jack’s face prompted him to modify his blunt analysis somewhat. 

“But those injuries are pretty much on the mend and aren’t life- threatening, so stop panicking. Like Gwen he’s been bitten by Iron Age lice, fleas and mosquitoes. He’s also grouchy as hell probably due to caffeine withdrawal and if he doesn’t get a shower soon I think Tosh may insist on fumigating the place.”

“I get the message – I’m going.” Ianto pushed off the exam table, accepting Jack’s hand to steady himself as he stood upright once more. “I’ll take a biohazard sack to the shower block for these clothes whilst I’m at it, shall I?”

“Ianto! Use my bathroom,” suggested Jack. He was been slightly taken aback by the list of ailments that Owen had recited. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Before you go, take this – insecticidal body wash,” called out Owen, presenting Ianto with a small aerosol can.

“Isn’t that what we spray the weevils with before hosing them down?” Ianto raised an eyebrow at Owen as he inspected the canister.

“Yeah. They live in the sewers and to be honest with you-”

“Don’t feel any obligation to speak your mind on my account, Owen. I’ll be off then – your shower, Jack – you sure?”

For some reason, it seemed strange for Ianto to be using Jack’s rooms after all this time. He felt as if he needed to ask permission to go into the private sanctum.

“I’m certain. Go on, I’ll be there in time to check that you’ve washed all those hard to get to places.” 

Jack grinned broadly for effect, although he wasn’t really in the mood for teasing and the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Jack, I may be a medic but there are some images I don’t need to have planted in my head and that was one of them.” Owen scowled at Jack, playing along with his need to attempt light-hearted banter.

Ianto could tell that Jack wanted a word with Owen without him being there and although slightly put out, his need to get clean prevented him from making a stand and insisting on being kept in the loop. He carefully made his way up the stairs and headed for Jack’s office.

Owen watched Ianto leave before turning to Jack and asking the question that he’d been dying to ask since Jack had returned with Ianto and Gwen.

“So – are you going to explain how the fuck they ended up being stranded in the dim and distant, medicine-free past for seven fucking months?”

“It was John – he set the wrist strap forward from where he left them. Said it was to avoid crossing time lines. But I think he did it deliberately, hoping they'd be dead by the time we got there.”

“Bastard. Ianto’s in a rough way, but it could have been far worse - nothing I can’t fix with the tech I have at my disposal here. But it would have been touch and go if you’d got there any later than you did. How the hell did they manage to survive that long?”

“That’s something I intend to find out, Owen. I found out some stuff from Gwen – what I do know is that, whatever they did, it took its toll on them, especially on Ianto.” Jack breathed out slowly and then turned to Owen. “How did he seem to you?” 

“Same as ever, snarky… no, hang on, scrap that, not quite the same.” Owen thought back over the conversation he’d had with Ianto. “He actually volunteered information about his back injury, full details, without me having to apply thumb screws. That’s a first.”

“Any symptoms of psychological trauma?”

“Nothing more than I’d expect yet – he’s putting up his usual shields for now, hiding behind snarky comments. As soon as he gets his hair cut and dons a suit you’ll be hard pushed to notice anything’s amiss. It will be readjusting to being back here that will bring out any issues. Both of them would have had to adjust their whole outlook on life, expectations, aspirations, day-to-day routines, everything completely thrown out of kilter. That can’t have been a barrel of laughs for either of them. What with Gwen just married and Ianto in a – well, whatever you two are to each other…”

Jack smiled as Owen floundered to come up with an appropriate description of the relationship he had with Ianto. He wasn’t sure he could accurately describe it either and that bothered him. 

“Put it this way, Harkness. If there’s any emotional damage in need of repairing, it’s not my job – Rhys will take good care of Gwen, I’ve no doubts about that, and you’d damn well better look after Ianto. Make the most of him, Jack. I can’t think of anybody else that could put up with all your crap and still come back for more. You and me have something in common see, we both stand a bloody good chance of watching people we love die well before their time. Today showed us that. So, take my advice and don’t waste a second – who knows when either of us will get so lucky again in the future.”

“Owen, am I hearing right? Are you giving me advice on how to treat Ianto? What the hell happened to the world today?”

“I don’t know, Jack, but for some weird bloody reason, we all got a second chance. I have no intention of fucking mine up and I suggest you go and make sure a certain Welshman doesn’t fall over in the shower and crack his head open. As soon as I’ve got a blood sample off Gwen and given her some vitamin shots I’m taking Tosh home.”

Owen turned away from Jack and busied himself with setting out various tablets for Gwen to take home with her, hoping to avoid any further discussion with Jack. He’d probably said far too much already.

“Owen?”

“What now?” 

“Thank you.” 

Without further delay, Jack left the autopsy bay. He had a promise to keep.


	23. Chapter 23

The sound of running water was a good sign; however, the lack of any other noise coming from the shower stall was not. Jack tapped tentatively on the glass screen door, not wanting to startle Ianto and then slowly pulled it open. He could see that Ianto was leaning into the spray of water, his hands pressed flat against the tiled wall, just standing there, head bowed, letting the water cascade over his back.

“Need some help there?”

It took Ianto such a long time to respond that Jack almost repeated his question.

“I s’pose I could manage on my own…” Ianto’s voice was hesitant and quiet. “But if you’re offering to help… that would be nice…”

Not wasting time, Jack quickly stripped off, throwing his clothes out of the bathroom door and into the small sleeping area that masqueraded as a bedroom. Grabbing a flannel from the small linen cupboard under the wash basin, he stepped into the shower cubicle and shut the door behind him. Ianto hadn’t moved and as Jack placed a hand on the small of his back he felt the younger man tense up and shuffle awkwardly out of the way.

“You in pain?”

“Not so much now,” Ianto shrugged slightly. “I just forgot how good running hot water could feel.”

“How’re you doing?” asked Jack, speaking softly into Ianto’s ear, having picked up on something that sounded very much like sadness in his voice.

Ianto raised his head and turned to look at Jack, water trickling down the long curly strands of hair that were plastered to his neck and shoulders. 

“Getting better, I guess… it’s … just weird that’s all.” Ianto shrugged, not really knowing where to start, he felt disorientated and everything felt strange. He settled for a distraction and passed the canister that Owen had given him. “Here – can you spray this stuff on my hair? Owen seems to think that Gwen and I are infested, which is pretty harsh coming from a zombie wannabe.”

Jack smiled, recognising the diversion for what it was and took the insecticide that Ianto handed to him. Taking care not to get any in Ianto’s eyes, he sprayed the foam onto the top of the other man’s head and then used his fingers to comb it through, ensuring that each strand was thoroughly coated.

“Anywhere else?” Jack asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked downwards at Ianto’s chest hair and then let his eyes trace a path southwards along the dark line down to the curls of pubic hair.

“Oh God, I suppose so … if I didn’t feel gross enough before, I do now.” Ianto rolled his eyes at the indignity of having his boss and lover treat him for body lice and fleas. “This really is not the naked reunion I had in mind.”

“Hey, this isn’t so bad.” Jack chuckled as turned the water off and got Ianto to turn around so that he could spray the foam on evenly. “Did I ever tell you about the time-?”

“Not now.” Ianto interrupted, really not in the mood for one of Jack’s outlandish anecdotes. “There’s plenty you haven’t told me which I’d rather hear about than some scandalous story from your colourful back catalogue, probably involving a sheep dip and a woolly alien.”

“Ouch… I guess I sorta deserved that.” 

Jack took a step back, feeling suddenly awkward. Although he was grateful that Ianto never pushed him for answers the way that Gwen did, he rarely stopped to think that the other man might get fed up with stories of past lovers and sexual hi-jinks that he shared in place of more personal recollections. 

“No, you didn’t,” said Ianto with a sigh. He took the can of insecticide away from Jack and then placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly as he apologised. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Hey, it’s OK. You’ve been through a hell of a time.” Jack covered Ianto’s hand with his, taking a good look at Ianto’s face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can talk properly. Deal?”

“Yeah,” agreed Ianto. 

Jack turned the water back on and rinsed off the foam left clinging to Ianto, then he squirted some shampoo into the palm of a hand and began to lather up his hair. He rubbed it in well and massaged Ianto’s scalp firmly with his fingertips, knowing he was doing a good job when a sigh escaped from between Ianto’s lips and he felt him lean back into his body. He washed it through twice, slowly dragging his fingers through the tangled locks, carefully teasing out the knots.

“I could get to like this length hair on you, love the curls and there’s more to hold on to. It’s kinda sexy…”

“You’re incorrigible.” Ianto chuckled quietly and shook his head, feeling anything but sexy. “I’m warning you now though, that if you dare come up with an anecdote about shagging King Charles, I shall shave the lot off. That clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Jack relaxed into the teasing banter, accepting that neither of them were ready to discuss the serious issues just yet. “To be honest, though, I’m not so keen on the beard.”

“Some of the men in the village did shave. But using sharp knives and no shaving foam –”

“Say no more.” Jack realised that having had a cleaver held to his throat that time would give Ianto good reason not to want to shave with a knife blade. “It’s not too bad I guess… quite soft really.”

Jack stroked the beard with his thumb, then leant forward gently to brush his lips against Ianto’s, kissing him gently while letting the wet whiskers tickle his nose and chin. 

“Minty?” Jack asked as he licked his lips.

“I spent about ten minutes brushing my teeth – I got through nearly a whole tube of toothpaste. You won’t believe how good clean teeth feel.” 

Jack saw the bashful look on Ianto’s face and couldn’t resist cupping his head in one hand and kissing him more deeply, his tongue delving in to relish the taste of mint-flavoured Ianto. He reluctantly withdrew, knowing that if he didn’t then he’d be in danger of taking care of his own needs before Ianto’s. 

“Lean forward and I’ll rinse out the suds. Then I want you to just stand still and let me wash you.”

“You don’t have to-” Ianto began to protest.

“I know, but I want to. Let me do something for you.”

Jack soaped up the flannel and swirled it over Ianto’s shoulders and back, carefully rubbing in a circular motion to dislodge the accumulated grime of months of hard living. He noted the myriad scratches, cuts and bruises, along with the inflamed insect bites, testament to the harsh conditions in which Ianto had been existing. 

“Ow!” Ianto exclaimed involuntarily, flinching as Jack scrubbed the lower part of his back. “That’s still a bit tender – from the blast in the warehouse.”

“Sorry. Did Owen give you something for it?”

“It’s alright,” replied Ianto with a shrug. “Just don’t prod it and I’ll be fine.”

Jack stopped himself from saying something salacious in response and frowned. He was struggling to get his head around the fact that Ianto was standing before him with injuries he’d been living with for months, that Jack was only just discovering. He moved in front of Ianto and placed the other man’s hands in his shoulders, taking his weight as he worked on his chest and abdomen, taking care with the damaged skin and waterproof dressing that Owen had placed over the open sore. That’s when Jack really noticed, for the first time, just how much weight Ianto had actually lost. His ribs were quite prominent and his stomach considerably flatter than it had been when he’d seen him get dressed that morning.

“I’m gonna have to feed you up,” Jack said as he ran his fingers lightly across Ianto’s ribs. “There should still be some leftover takeaway that you ordered last night still in the fridge, I can reheat that later.”

Ianto started to say something, then bit his tongue and sighed heavily.

“What is it, Ianto?” Jack dropped the flannel and slid his arms around Ianto’s waist, holding him close. “Hey, talk to me, please.”

“I was about to say it would’ve gone off by now …” Ianto shook his head, still coming to terms with the fact that he’d been gone less than twenty-four hours. “I can’t even remember what we had. What was it? Chinese or Indian? Pizza?”

“Chinese. Hey, I can order in something fresh in if you’d prefer.”

“No, no… really whatever… anything to be honest. Don’t waste food … Seriously, after months of brick-hard bread, glue-like porridge and tough strips of salted meat … trust me, anything sounds good.”

Jack’s intention of leisurely washing the rest of Ianto’s body whilst pleasuring him at the same time was scuppered. Ianto’s words and ribs bore testament to the fact that he’d been malnourished for seven months and Jack realised that if he was going to take care of him properly he’d make sure he was clean, dry and fed before even thinking of anything else. 

“Right, let’s finish off here quickly then and I’ll get you something to eat. Shave later perhaps?”

Ianto nodded, grateful for the suggestion. However desperate he was to reacquaint himself with every part of Jack’s wonderfully toned physique, he couldn’t avoid the fact that he was exhausted and after the earlier nausea had passed, his empty stomach had been grumbling for food. He’d missed sex with Jack, but he was certain that if they’d tried anything adventurous in the shower, he’d have collapsed within minutes which would have been more than embarrassing. There was also the fact that his back would probably not take kindly to any undue pressure and the last thing he wanted was for Jack to think he’d hurt him. 

True to his word, Jack quickly and efficiently washed Ianto, from top to toe, not missing a single square inch of skin, even though in other circumstances he would have lingered over some areas a lot longer than he did. Then he wrapped Ianto up in towels, gently patted off the excess water and led him to his bed, before pulling on a clean t-shirt and a pair of trousers so that he could go back up to the kitchen to find some food. Jack had to admit to being hungry himself, he couldn’t recall when he’d last stopped to eat.

Ianto looked at the bed and tried to remember if it was in exactly the same state as it had been when he’d got up from it the last time, but he couldn’t be sure. The sheets and blankets were the same, but seeing as Jack’s bedclothes showed as much variety as the rest of his wardrobe that meant nothing. Sitting on the smooth cotton sheets, with a soft, fluffy towel draped about his shoulders, Ianto closed his eyes and luxuriated in the sensations of having such fine fabrics next to his skin. The soft mattress gave way as he lay back and he swore that he would never complain about Jack’s bed ever again. 

Physically, he was clean, dry, warm and comfortable, and it had been a bloody long time since he could claim that. The painkillers were relaxing him and the tension was melting away from his muscles. Even Jack’s firm pillows felt like drifts of cotton wool under his head. 

Unfortunately, the external feelings of comfort were at odds with his bewildered state of mind. If it wasn’t for his physical condition he’d have shoved Jack against the tiled wall of the shower and let him know just how much he’d missed him, which would have been pathetic. He felt like a selfish idiot, wanting Jack’s attention when there had obviously been all sorts of dramas played out back here at the Hub; Tosh hurt, Hart up to no good and apparently Jack’s brother involved as well. No wonder Jack hadn’t had time to notice his absence. At least he’d come back to rescue him and Gwen. He should be thankful for that. 

“We’ve got the place to ourselves now!” called out Jack as he climbed back down the ladder clutching a bag of reheated takeaway in one hand. He was about to explain that Owen was giving Gwen a lift home when he noticed that Ianto was lying back on the bed, his eyes shut and the soft light catching the shining trail of a tear that had rolled down his cheek.

“Ianto? What is it?” Jack dumped the food on the nightstand and dashed to the bedside, worried sick. “Are you hurting? What’s the matter?”

Ianto shook his head and opened his eyes, trying to smile at Jack to allay his fears. Jack sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the renegade tear away gently with his thumb. He could see that Ianto was struggling to put his thoughts into words, so he waited patiently. It didn’t take long for the pent-up feelings to come tumbling out.

“It’s just that … look, I know it’s been no time at all for you and I figure you’ve been busy, although I haven’t a fucking clue what with, because you’ve hardly told me anything ... John bloody Hart is on the scene… again… and suddenly I’m feeling like a complete idiot.” Ianto stopped to take a breath and then decided to confess his stupidity to Jack. “I missed you… I missed you so bloody much …thought I was never going to see you again… and it’s only been hours for you … and I feel fucking pathetic for wanting you to have missed me as much as I missed you.”

“You’re not being pathetic at all …” Jack brushed the damp curls from Ianto’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pleased to note that it wasn’t as warm as it had been before. “Hey, I know a bit about this you know … when I was gone with the Doctor, a whole year passed for me and no more than a couple of months for you guys. I missed you during that year. You, Ianto … when I told you that I’d come back for you, I meant it. Why the hell d’ya think I was so damn nervous asking you out on that date? I hadn’t seen you for a year and I didn’t know if I was still in with a chance. But even though it’s hardly been a day since you disappeared, trust me, if I hadn’t found you, I would’ve killed John.”

Ianto rubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself up on the bed so that he could get a good look at Jack. Something had happened, even though it had only been hours for him, he’d changed. Their eyes met long enough to ascertain that they had both been deeply affected by their experiences since Ianto had left this bed the last time. Too much water had flowed under that bridge for them to deal with the repercussions easily or quickly, and definitely not on empty stomachs.

“So, where’s this food you promised me?” demanded Ianto.

Jack smiled and opened the bag to reveal two plastic containers and two forks, he handed one set over to Ianto. 

“Chop suey or special fried rice? There are some prawn crackers in the paper bag as well. I just microwaved the tubs and hoped for the best. Hope it’s OK.” Jack almost regretted not getting something of a better nutritional value for Ianto, but it smelt alright and was still hot.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed reheated Chinese takeaway.” Ianto took the rice and opened the lid as in inhaled deeply. “Gwen and I would torture ourselves talking about which foods we were missing most – for her it was anything chocolate.”

Ianto smiled as he raised a forkful of special fried rice to his lips and blew on it to cool it down. 

“What happened, Jack? While we were gone? Tosh got hurt and your ex turned up and what’s all this about Gray? You once told me that John Hart had been taunting you and that he couldn’t possibly know where your brother was.”

“I thought Gray was lost – but he isn’t. Not anymore.” Jack had been dreading explaining this to Ianto and had been hoping to put it off.

“Where is he?” Ianto asked as he fished out a piece of chicken and a few shrimp, neither of which featured on the Iron Age menu.

“Here,” replied Jack so quietly that for a moment Ianto thought he’d misheard him.

“What?” Ianto dropped his fork in surprise. 

“In the cells,” explained Jack, with a heartfelt sigh.

“Why?” Ianto wondered what the hell had been going on.

“Because he shot Tosh.” Jack wasn’t ready to tell Ianto what Hart and his brother had put him through. He knew how much it upset Ianto when he died, especially if he couldn’t be there to comfort him as he revived. 

“Oh my god … what happened? Jack did something happen to you as well?”

Jack frowned, he should have known that Ianto would ask that. He always did.

“I may have got killed… a coupla times … but I’m OK. Really. Please, Ianto let’s eat this and then let me take care of you for what’s left of the night. We’ll deal with the rest in the morning. I’ll tell you exactly what has been going on here and you can tell me how you kept yourself and Gwen alive for seven months. How about it?”

Ianto could tell by Jack’s face that he really needed the respite, in order to come to terms with what he’d been through. That made two of them.

“Seeing as I believed I was never going to see you again, I guess I can wait until the morning.”

“Thank you. Now eat up, I don’t want to listen to your stomach grumbling all night.”

They finished off both containers of food and all the prawn crackers, Ianto not moaning once about crumbs on the sheets, much to Jack’s quiet amusement. Leaving Ianto to get into bed, Jack went to fetch water and get rid of the empty containers. On his return, he smiled at the sight of Ianto tucked up under the blankets, just his head of curls showing on the pillow.

“Hey there, you going to hog the whole bed or are you prepared to share?” Jack grinned as he discarded his t-shirt and trousers.

“I’m good at sharing,” Ianto mumbled sleepily as he moved over to one side.

“I noticed – you and Gwen looked pretty cosy together,” stated Jack casually, as he slipped under the covers and curled up around Ianto’s warm body.

“Jealous?” Ianto looked over his shoulder at Jack.

“Of the fact that you’ve now spent more nights with Gwen than you’ve ever spent with me?” Jack idly played with a particularly tempting strand of hair that had fallen across Ianto’s forehead. “Maybe, just a bit.”

“Nothing to be jealous of.”

Ianto turned around and drew Jack closer, their bodies pressed tightly against each other in the narrow bed. 

“So you two? You never-”

“Never. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to forget what this felt like.”

“What -?”

Ianto pre-empted Jack’s question by rolling himself over to lie on top of Jack and then kissing him soundly until he couldn’t remember what he had been about to ask. However, judging by Jack’s dilated pupils his body had figured out what the answer would have been and was already preparing to act on it.


	24. Chapter 24

The lights were dimmed, enough that it was possible for Ianto to sleep, yet providing sufficient illumination for Jack to be able to see the nasty accumulation of scars and marks on his skin. Jack almost felt guilty about the fresh bruises and love bites until he reminded himself that Ianto had been far more physical than he’d been. 

Tracing a fingertip gently across the reddened patch on Ianto’s exposed throat, over the curve of his shoulder and down his back, Jack reflected on the greater strength that now lay beneath the scarred skin. It was as if his lover’s body had changed overnight, becoming leaner, yet more powerful and he was finding it hard to come to terms with the drastic change. Even though he was never averse to letting others take a more dominant role when it came to sex, Ianto included, this had been different. Ianto had been hungry for his body in a way he’d rarely experienced before, with the possible exception of past drunken encounters with his psychotic ex. Despite the sinfully wild side that Ianto normally kept well concealed beneath a sharp suit, one which he enjoyed seeing revealed, the look in his eyes as he’d taken Jack’s wrists in one hand and held them above his head could only be described as feral. The long hair and untrimmed beard only reinforced the impression that Ianto had become imbued with more than a trace of the savage nature of the Iron Age. 

Although he could appreciate that months had passed for Ianto since they’d last lain together, he’d been so demanding, so demonstrative in his needs that Jack had been forced to make him take it slower to avoid him suffering further injury. It was almost as if Ianto had been punishing himself on Jack’s body. Something was far from right; he’d been trying to bury more than just his cock in Jack’s body as he’d gripped onto his hips so fiercely, as he had pounded away, driving in deeper and harder. 

In the darkened room Jack lovingly caressed the unfamiliar long strands of hair, recalling the sobs he’d heard when Ianto had come deep inside him, despite his belated attempts to muffle the sound by pressing his face against the back of Jack’s neck. The warm, wet tears that Jack had felt on his bare skin had betrayed the fact that pent up emotions had erupted as violently as the orgasm that caused Ianto to shudder uncontrollably. Jack had rolled over as soon as he felt Ianto withdraw from his body to take him tightly in his arms, ignoring the stickiness between them, just holding onto him close until the hitched, uneven breaths were replaced by the calmer inhalations that accompanied Ianto into a restless sleep.

Jack frowned as he wondered what was wrong, because he knew damn well that there had been more to their desperate coupling than a welcome home fuck. Despite the pain in his own heart concerning his brother and the way in which he had attempted to destroy everything that Jack held dear, something was tearing Ianto apart inside and he needed to do whatever it took to heal that. As Owen had pointed out, he had all the time in the world to deal with his own problems, but Ianto’s days were numbered and he was honour bound to do whatever he could to lighten the burden on the man whose loyalty and love were given without question. I sometimes seemed as if Ianto didn't even expect any reciprocation of those feelings and that troubled Jack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two things woke Jack from a light slumber: the fact that something was tickling his nose and the restlessness of his sleeping companion. Opening his eyes, he could just make out, in the subdued lighting, the long wisps of hair that brushed against his face as the man curled around him was becoming more and more agitated in his sleep. Ianto was murmuring to himself, in Welsh as far as Jack could discern. Attempting to comfort his lover without waking him, Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto’s body and pulled him closer to his chest. 

“Hush there. It’s OK. You’re home again,” murmured Jack as he pressed a kiss to Ianto’s head. “I’ve got you.”

Jack couldn’t be sure if Ianto had heard him or not, but he seemed to calm down for a brief while. He tried to help him settle by carefully rocking him in his arms, hoping to instil some sense of peace and security. He had no idea what plagued Ianto’s dreams and that’s when the reality of the seven months outside his timeline came crashing down. Not only had Jack no idea what Ianto had gone through in all that time, but those months of his life had been stolen from Jack. He knew that Ianto’s lifespan was considerably shortened as a consequence of working for Torchwood and now, thanks to John Hart and his brother, he’d just missed seven precious months of that life, months that could never be bought back.

Jack’s melancholy reflections made him tense up, tightening his grip around Ianto and it was the force of his arms contracting possessively that put enough pressure on the wound in Ianto’s side to cause a sharp spike of pain. The discomfort pierced its way into Ianto's troubled dreams and, with a painful jolt, he woke up, gasping for breath and looking frantically from one side to the other.

“Hey there, you’re in my room, you’re safe … Ianto?” Jack could feel the confusion and disorientation rolling off Ianto in waves and wanted to reassure him as quickly as he could. “It’s me, Jack … you’re OK now …come on, wake up properly for me … come on …”

Ianto felt unaccountably warm and thought he could feel soft, heavy blankets wrapped around him like a silken cocoon. He shut his eyes once more, afraid that the dream would evaporate, leaving him once more in that cold, damp hut. There was someone next to him, a soft exhalation of air gusting against his brow. Breath… someone’s breath on his skin, the exhalations fast and anxious.

“You OK there? Come on, open your eyes, let me see them … come on, gorgeous … you can do it for me …”

Ianto gradually opened his eyes to see Jack’s face looking down on him, his forehead deeply creased with lines showing his concern.

“Ianto? Know where you are now?”

“Yeah … it’s…well, I think I do.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours? Talk to me, Ianto.”

“That an order?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to tell me what the hell’s bothering you-”

Ianto reached up a hand and placed it squarely on Jack’s smooth chest, relishing the feel of warm skin over strong muscles. 

“Jack – there is something I need to ask you,” stated Ianto, meeting Jack's eyes with a steely gaze. “Tell me, if someone who should be alive wasn’t…would we know? Or if, say, someone who should never have existed is living here and now … how could you find out?”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense,” replied Jack, frowning. He placed the back of his hand against Ianto’s forehead, wondering how feverish Ianto was and if he should give him something for it. 

“Time travel. If someone travels back in time. If they change the course of events and as a result historical events never happen,” explained Ianto slowly. “Would you know? Or would the history I know be that way anyway because of something I’d already done in the past? Doesn’t that ever bother you?”

“It’s always risky,” sighed Jack, understanding what was troubling Ianto, even if he did not know the specifics. He thought back to the events surrounding his own past, when he'd first met the Doctor. “When I was with the Time Agency, we were mostly concerned with technology being transferred from one era to another. Then there are those with more ethical concerns, who worry about impacts on the development of cultures. So, unless you exposed the tribes of ancient Wales to weaponry and communication devices from the present day and then trained them on how to produce them and use them-”

“Nope,” responded, Ianto, shaking his head slowly. “Everything we had on us, including our clothes, was destroyed. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“What is it then, Ianto? What’s worrying you?” demanded Jack, anxious to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Ianto.

“I… I really wish I could find out if I did something to screw up history.”

“What makes you think you might have done that? Ianto?” Jack was confused and could see that Ianto really needed to get this out of his system if he was to make any progress in dealing with whatever it was he’d been through. “Sit up now and talk to me... come on, something’s bugging you.”

Jack sat up, shoving the displaced pillows behind his back and then helping Ianto to sit up next to him, allowing Jack to support him physically and emotionally.

“Because of me, someone died.” Ianto shut his eyes as he confessed his sin to Jack, afraid that he’d be unable to forgive him once he worked out the implications.

“What?” Jack asked, not having expected that particular announcement. However, seeing Ianto’s face sink, he regretted having sounded so shocked. “In the past, yes?” 

“Yep …and ever since then I've been thinking - what if he wasn’t meant to die? What if he had been the ancestor of somebody really important and because of me they never lived? I just -”

“Whoa there, before you go any further - trust me, if timelines had been changed radically, I’d’ve known. Now, tell me exactly what happened?” asked Jack calmly. “If you killed someone, I can only think that it had to have been in self-defence. Yes?”

“I suppose so…” shrugged Ianto, still assimilating what Jack had told him about not having changed history. 

“Answer me this - if you hadn’t done whatever you did to protect yourself, would you have been badly hurt or killed?”

Ianto paused and closed his eyes, recalling the moment after he’d been stabbed, swaying from side to side, clutching the heavy long sword, the weight starting to become too much and the other man advancing on him, swinging his own sword over his head, about to strike the killing blow … Ianto had just held his own sword up, lifting the tip from the ground, raising it with all his strength in front of him… then the other man’s momentum carrying him onto the blade and to his death.

“Yes. Yes,” replied Ianto, nodding solemnly. “I’d have been killed. No question about it.”

Jack pulled Ianto into a close hug, observing the way the recollection of past events was causing him to tremble slightly. He needed to get Ianto to talk about what had led him to take someone's life, however painful those memories were. He had to exorcise this particular demon before it consumed Ianto.

“I need you to explain to me what happened. From the beginning,” prompted Jack, trying to make it sound as if he was just asking Ianto to give him a report. He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Ianto had almost been killed.

“I rode out with a group of men from the village. To recover stolen sheep would you believe?” Ianto paused to raise an eyebrow.

“Makes a change from disposing of sheep carcasses, I guess,” responded Jack with a smirk, referring to one of Ianto’s many tasks involved in the care of their pteranodon.

“I was promised supplies of meat and grain for me and Gwen until the solstice– we were pretty much starving by then. Nothing to eat but gruel and leaves, plus whatever berries and mushrooms we could forage that didn’t make us sick.”

Jack sighed as he mentally cursed John Hart once more. If he had got them back there sooner after Ianto and Gwen had been abandoned in the past, none of this would have happened. Whatever Ianto had suffered to cause these nightmares, to have been plunged into these depths of misery, could have been spared. Jack stroked Ianto’s hair, encouraging him to continue.

“Go on.”

“It took us a few days to find them. We weren’t well prepared, we were tired before the fighting even started … it just got out of hand so fast. There were more of them than we’d been expecting.”

Ianto took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if recalling the events in detail.

“At some point I ended up fighting with their leader ... I don’t know how … and I managed to disarm him and I could have killed him. But I got to thinking that maybe he was an ancestor of mine or of Gwen’s and if he died we might cease to exist.” Ianto paused and chuckled to himself. “Stupid really, because now I think about it, if I hadn’t killed him, we’d still both be dead. Anyway, I tried to let him escape, but he fought back – pulled a dagger out from somewhere and stabbed me.”

“This?” Jack tenderly brushed his fingertips over the dressing on Ianto’s side.

“Yep,” replied Ianto, placing his hand over Jack’s. “Then I must have stumbled or something, I was on my back and looking up at him. He’d got hold of his sword again and he was swinging it over his head, about to finish me off … so I just held up my sword, in front of me, and hoped for the best … didn’t think I stood a chance, but he fell on it.”

“That was self-defence,” insisted Jack firmly, suppressing a shudder as he imagined what might have happened. “You can’t blame yourself -”

“If that was all that happened, I’d agree. But then…”

“What?”

“It wasn’t that straightforward.” Ianto tightened his grip on Jack’s hand to brace himself as he relived what happened next. “I must’ve blacked out, because when I came to on the grass, I turned my head and saw him, lying next to me. He looked at me, I’ll never forget that look. I thought he’d been taken prisoner. But then… one of the men I’d ridden out with was there, grinning down at me. I was confused, but then I felt the rush of wind as the blade of his sword cut through the air by my face and then…shit, he sliced the man’s head clean off, while I was lying there … it was so fucking brutal …” 

“That was not your fault...” Jack held onto Ianto tightly, imagining how horrific that experience would have been. “You couldn’t have stopped that.”

“But I keep seeing it Jack – hearing it, feeling it, the shudder beneath me as the blade bit into the ground … hot, wet blood splashing onto my face, it wouldn’t stop, it kept coming and then… I can’t remember much after that…” 

Jack could tell from the tension in Ianto’s body and the way his voice was breaking that it was painful talking about it, but he knew from experience how much more harmful it could be to bottle up memories and not share them.

“Would I be right in thinking that you never discussed this with Gwen?” asked Jack, perceptively. He was sure that if Gwen knew about this she’d have told him.

“Jack, she felt bad enough that I’d got stabbed going off just to get more food for us, I didn’t want her to feel even more guilty-”

“You’re a bloody idiot – you know that? A noble bloody idiot. You trying to give me a run for my money on suffering in silence?”

Ianto just shrugged.

Jack didn’t want to think how Ianto would have coped if he’d never got to talk to anyone about how he felt. Although he could sympathise with him for not wanting to burden Gwen, or indeed deal with her brand of smothering comfort, he knew of the toll those sorts of secrets took on a person’s soul. He was grateful that he’d managed to find Ianto in time to deal with the after effects of what he’d been through. 

“Was that the worst thing that happened to you?” Jack couldn’t bear to think that he’d suffered anything even more traumatic. 

Ianto’s mind dragged up the image of him lying on top of Gwen kissing her and holding her tight as she pushed her hands into his trousers, pulling him onto her willing body, his own erection at the time betraying his loyalty to Jack. 

The prolonged silence had Jack panicking.

“Oh no, Ianto … please don’t tell me there was worse? What happened to you?”

“Nothing, Jack.” Ianto shook his head in denial and swallowed hard. 

“Promise me?”

Ianto’s heart beat faster as he processed how much of a lie it would be to agree to Jack’s request. He couldn’t bring himself to deceive Jack, yet neither could he discuss what had nearly happened on the solstice. 

“I … please, Jack, let’s not talk about this anymore.”

Ianto’s refusal to provide the assurance he needed did nothing to allay Jack’s fears. He had Owen’s report on the physical injuries sustained by Ianto, so he could only assume that whatever had been done to him had left no visible scarring and that only led his mind along a trail of thoughts that made him furious. He held onto Ianto tighter than ever and wondered just how he would make John Hart pay for the damage done. 

Tilting Ianto’s face up gently, Jack pressed a soft kiss to his lips, unsurprised at the taste of salty tears as he ran the tip of his tongue over his own lips. He wondered when or if he’d be able to persuade Ianto to discuss what else he had gone through, because he could tell that there was something else there that was preying on the younger man’s mind.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some light relief from the angst.

Rhys found himself dashing up and down the aisles of the corner shop, in the middle of the night, buying chocolate, ice cream, condoms and a microwaveable lasagne. He was lucky that the manager recognised him, otherwise he wouldn’t have unlocked the door. There were still a few opportunistic gangs hanging around on the streets, wandering around taking advantage of the chaos caused by reports of vicious creatures on the loose and the violent deaths of four high ranking policemen. 

Throwing a large bar of Toblerone and a box of Lindt truffles into the basket, intent on making sure there was enough quality chocolate to satisfy his wife’s needs, Rhys shook his head as he pondered the events of the evening so far.

_He’d been sat at home, in front of the TV, watching a Top Gear marathon, about to take another swig from his bottle of beer, when the door bell rung. He wasn’t going to open it at first, after all Gwen’s text had made it clear that he should stay in, but a quick peek through the spy hole showed that it was that Owen from Torchwood standing there next to his Gwen. She wasn’t wearing the same gear as she’d had on when he’d dropped her off earlier so he assumed that she must have got mucky dealing with some sort of messy alien and had to get changed. OK, he’d thought to himself, how many other men would have that as their first thought when the missus gets home from work in a different outfit than the one she had on in the morning? What he wasn’t prepared for was the way she ran at him as soon as he opened the door. She’d thrown herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck as if she’d not seen him for donkeys’ years._

_Rhys snorted to himself as he reflected on the truth of the matter. It hadn’t taken him long to notice that Gwen’s hair was down to her backside, and that it was no longer straight, glossy and perfectly styled. Once she kicked off a pair of tatty trainers, he could see that her feet were in an atrocious state. He figured it was more than a messy alien she’d had to cope with. That’s when he’d demanded to know what the fuck had happened._

_**Seven months.** _

_That’s how long her day had been – Rhys had always had an issue with the long hours she worked, he’d got pissed off with the number of last minute calls to say she’d be back late and not to wait up. But this was way beyond a bloody joke. Although it briefly crossed his mind that she was owed a hell of a lot of overtime pay._

_The doctor, Owen, had told Gwen he’d call her in the morning to check she was feeling alright and then disappeared before Rhys could ask him what was going on. He’d taken one look at Rhys’ face and muttered something about Tosh waiting for him in the car._

_**Seven bloody months.** _

_Once they were on their own, Rhys had managed to peel Gwen away from his side long enough to ask if there was anything he could get for her. That’s when she’d asked what was for dinner. He’d not had the heart to remind her that she’d promised to cook that evening, but he did look sheepish when he confessed to having finished off the leftovers that were in the fridge whilst he’d been waiting for her. She’d just grabbed a large packet of crisps from the cupboard and started stuffing them into her mouth a handful at a time, licking her fingers after each mouthful. It was as if she’d never had a packet of salt and vinegar crisps in her life and that she’d never tasted anything so delicious._

_He’d bitten his tongue before he’d said something about taking it easy - he could tell that she’d lost weight, a pity as he quite liked to have something to hold onto._

_Putting the kettle on and offering to make a cup of tea had been a waste of time, before he’d even got the teabags out, Gwen had already snagged a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured herself a large glass. It hadn’t touched the sides as she had guzzled it enthusiastically, washing down the salty crisps. Steering her back towards the sofa, Rhys eventually got her to talk about what exactly had happened._

_Bloody Torchwood, that’s all he could think as she’d explained about the bombs and having been stuck two thousand years in the past until Jack Harkness had rescued her. Rhys had rubbed his forehead, feeling a major headache coming on, and got himself another bottle of beer when she got to that part. How the hell could he compete with that? He’d then asked how she’d managed to survive in the past for that long and that’s when she’d gone quiet, very quiet – tears had welled up in her eyes, which had grown wide as she gave him a plaintive look and very softly she spoke just one word:_

_“Ianto.”_

_It seemed that his Gwen and Ianto had been stranded together for all that time. Like on a desert island, but without the sun and the sand._

_**Seven fucking months.** _

_By all accounts Ianto had kept Gwen alive, unharmed and unmolested from what she’d gone on to tell him, and for that Rhys should be eternally grateful. But he felt cheated, he was meant to protect Gwen and look after her – he was her bloody husband after all. He used to be jealous of Jack, that bloody perfect smile and toned body. He was glad when they’d got married and Gwen had made it clear to him that she much referred a home-grown lover. However, Ianto was Welsh; more local than he was even, being from the south as opposed to the more rural north. And he was a handsome bugger. Shit._

_As he’d set out from the flat on his mission to gather special treats for Gwen, she’d called him back urgently to whisper ‘condoms’. When he’d frowned, she’d gone on to point out that missing the Pill for one day was a bit dodgy, but going without it for almost two hundred days was asking for trouble._

“That all?” asked the corner shop manager as he tossed the packet of condoms into the thin carrier bag.

“Aye, that’s the lot. Cheers, mate.” Rhys handed over some crumpled notes from his wallet, pocketed the handful of small change and then set off quickly for home. 

He had a large tub of Haagen Dazs ice cream with Gwen’s name on it and she’d told him to buy condoms.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for Tosh and Owen ...

Owen had asked Tosh if she wanted to go back to her flat or to come back to his apartment overlooking the Bay. She’d accepted his offer to stay over at his place as long as she could pick up a change of clothes and toiletries from her own flat first. Owen suggested that she should also pick up any foods or drinks she wanted as he’d got rid of almost everything he’d had stored away.

Standing by the floor to ceiling window of Owen’s apartment, Tosh admired the view, loving the way the coloured lights from Cardiff Bay and beyond reflected on the water, shimmering and shifting in ever-changing patterns. 

“You OK there? How much pain are you in?” Owen called out as he returned to the living area after putting Tosh’s overnight bag into his bedroom.

“It still aches, but the painkillers are still doing a fine job.” 

Tosh turned away from the window and headed back towards the kitchenette area, where Owen was fetching a plate from one of the cupboards.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me bringing pizza back?”

“Course not, helps me maintain my cover as a living person if empty pizza boxes turn up next to the rubbish chute every now and then. Beer bottles as well for that matter, otherwise rumours will spread that I’ve taken the pledge. Sit yourself down and I’ll get this for you.”

Tosh sat down on the sofa positioned in front of the large picture window, giving a panoramic view of the inner harbour. Owen brought over a side table on which he placed a plate with two slices of pizza.

“I’d offer you a beer – but not with those painkillers. Think I’ve still got some of those herbal tea bags you like – fancy a cup of that?”

“Thank you, Owen. That would be lovely.” 

Tosh was glad she’d asked him to let her stay at his place. For some reason, it had been easier than asking him to spend the night at her flat. She was almost feeling guilty about being injured, because she was enjoying being looked after. 

After setting down a large mug of tea on the small, glass-topped table, Owen sat next to Tosh. There had been a time when her presence here with pizza and beer had annoyed him, partly because he had been coming to terms with the whole ‘not-eating’ thing. But now he was glad of her company and pleased to be able to look after her.

“What do you think Jack will do?” asked Tosh as she gazed out towards the Millennium Centre and the area above their base, proud of the fact she’d helped to thwart the plans of Jack’s brother and his ex to cause city-wide devastation.

“About what? Or should I say who?”

“Good question – both Gray and Hart, I suppose. It’s not as if we can easily rehabilitate either of them into the twenty first century, not like our visitors from the fifties.” 

Tosh winced as she recalled too late just how unsuccessful that had proved to be, with one having committed suicide in Ianto’s car, one flying off without a valid pilot’s licence and only one actually gaining employment and wanting to stay.

Owen put his feet up on the coffee table and sighed as he thought back to his fateful relationship with Dianne, a woman he’d fallen in love with in spite of himself. Tosh had a point of course, they’d not done much good with people just fifty years out of time. 

“We don’t have a particularly good track record dealing with the temporally displaced, do we?” pondered Owen as he wondered if perhaps they ought to develop an asylum policy of some sort. No, that would never catch on, especially with Jack; he had enough trouble dealing with the facility out in the Bristol Channel. 

“No – and even if we did, I really can’t see John Hart holding down a steady job and becoming a responsible citizen,” chuckled Tosh, before she took her cup of tea and blew gently onto the surface of the steaming liquid to cool it down before taking a sip.

“Yeah, especially after Jack rips his arms off,” responded Owen, grinning as he saw Tosh struggle not to spit out her mouthful of tea at that image.

“He really does ask for it,” replied Tosh, recalling the pleasurable feeling of pressing her heel into the soft flesh between the tops of his thighs. “I find it hard to resist the urge to commit acts of violence against him, so I can’t imagine how Jack must feel.”

“Tell me about it – as soon as I told him what state Ianto was in, he looked ready to go down to the cells and bludgeon the bastard to death.”

“It might be a good ice breaker at tomorrow’s briefing – we could all come up with novel ideas of how to cause pain to John Hart.”

“I bet your ideas would win. You’re quite evil when you put your mind to it.”

Tosh smiled shyly at the implied compliment, then frowned as she considered the other person in the cells, the one who’d shot her in the first place and would’ve killed her had Owen not been there.

“What about Gray? How on earth will Jack deal with him?”

“Maybe not on earth at all, perhaps he’ll take him away somewhere – now he’s got a wrist band thing that works so he can travel in time and space. Perhaps he’ll move on and take his brother with him.”

“He wouldn’t leave us,” Tosh shook her head, not wanting to think of Jack leaving.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Captain Martyr Complex would do just that. He feels guilty as hell about all of this. He’d look on it on as a punishment – disappear off the surface of the planet with his fucked-up kid brother and put up with the little shit for the rest of the quilted psychopath’s life span.”

“What about Ianto?” Tosh voiced her concern. She hated to think what it would do to their friend if Jack left again, especially if he never came back. 

“I don’t think he’d go for that sort of ménage à trois. Despite my theory that he’s a kinky bastard- he’d have to be to shag Harkness- I don’t think he’d go for it.” 

However, Owen knew precisely what Tosh meant, he just didn’t want to consider that immediately. He resorted to his normal stance of hiding personal feelings behind a mask of flippancy.

“Owen! That’s awful,” chastised Tosh, although she realised what Owen was doing. “I wasn’t thinking of anything like that and you know it! I’m worried about the effect it will have on Ianto if Jack just got up and left after everything he’s been through. Do you really think Jack would do that to him?”

“Trust me, Jack could easily convince himself he’s doing Ianto a favour by walking out on him. But if he does, he’d better not turn up here again, not until I’m properly dead.” 

Tosh took a good look at Owen and could see he was serious, that he would give Jack hell if he deserted Ianto. It had been as if he’d come to care for all of them much more since Copley’s bullet had stopped his heart. She leaned over, placed a hand on his knee and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Caring.” 

Tosh yawned, shivering as tiredness made her realise Owen no longer bothered with the central heating.

“I think it’s time I tucked you up in bed. Maybe I can do something to prove my bedside manner isn’t as bad as some would have you believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - what's happening in the cells ... is John Hart getting a good night's sleep? Is Gray feeling remorseful? Probably not ...


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, down in the cells, someone is restless...

_Thump, thump, thump…_

The bench was hard and uncomfortable, but he’d slept in worse places. However, on those occasions he was usually wasted on drugs or out of his skull on booze. He’d sleep anywhere and with anyone. Make that anything. It had been a long time since he’d been in a cell this sober. He was hungry as well – that bastard could’ve given him some food, he left something for his psychotic brother. Blood thicker than water they say – well they were both capable of being amazingly thick at times. 

_Thump, thump, thump…_

Of course, it would be easier to get some bloody sleep if the neighbours weren’t so bloody noisy. John put his hands over his ears, but it was no good, he couldn’t block it out. First of all, it had been that snoring weevil and now it was the-

_Thump, thump, thump…_

“Shut the fuck up, will you! There isn’t any room service.”

_THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!_

“For fuck’s sake, Gray, give it a rest.”

_THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!_

“Don’t make me come and shut you up!”

“You’re locked in, same as me- so how do you intend doing that?” 

_THUMP!_

Gray pounded the window once more with his fist, not caring that it was bruised and swollen.

“I’m locked up because it suits me,” replied John Hart, when he heard Gray take a break from battering at the walls. “I’m safer in here. Team Torchwood can’t use me as a punch bag, your brother’s got first dibs on that, and he’s otherwise occupied. And as an added bonus, you can’t hurt me either. As I see it, I’m better off here than I would be outside this bloody cell.”

Gray leaned against the Plexiglas window of his cell and mulled over what John had unintentionally told him.

“Who’s up there with him then? Who’s keeping him company?”

“Dunno for certain.” John swore to himself, not really wanting to tell Gray what had happened. 

However, it wasn’t a lie, he really didn’t have a clue which members of the gang were still hanging around, although it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Jack wasn’t going to let Eye Candy far from his side. John had never seen him so protective over a lover before, which was an eyeopener for him as he had observed Jack work his way through countless bed partners and one-night stands when they’d been in the Time Agency together. They’d both been known as ‘screw ’em and dump ’em’ kind of guys. They’d only ended up together for years on end because of an inconvenient time loop.

“When you brought me down here, there was no-one in the base apart from the doctor and the woman I shot.” Gray was talking slowly, as if working it out for himself. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of them picking on you?” 

“You’d be surprised – I’m getting really pissed off with having stiletto heels ground into my balls. It was a bit of a turn on to begin with, but-”

“You’re not telling me everything! You went back, didn’t you?” Gray’s lips were pressed tightly together as he drew in a long breath through flared nostrils. “You bastard, you brought them back – his fuck buddies! You’ve ruined everything!”

John got up from his bench and leaned against the toughened glass window of his own cell. He couldn’t see Gray, but he had to talk to him, reason with him. There was no point in burning all his bridges, especially with someone as dangerously insane as Jack’s brother. 

“It was either help him or get killed – I’m a coward, always have been, always will be – it was a no-fucking-brainer!” John had known full well that Jack had been so incensed with fury, that he would have shot him on the spot if he’d refused to help him.

“Great. Fucking wonderful.” Gray rubbed his aching shoulder, the painkiller that had been administered had long since worn off, and grimaced in pain. “So now he’s back to full strength and we’re stuck in here-”

“Stop whingeing. I bet you’re doing that pouting thing – same as he does. You two are so bloody similar you wouldn’t believe it. Stubborn fucking gits, you’re both unbearable when you don’t get your own way.” 

There had been a time when John had fantasised about having a threesome with the two brothers, but the reality wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun as his imagination had pictured it. They’d be at each other’s throats alright, but not in the hot, erotic way that he’d imagined.

“I’m nothing like my brother!” Gray snarled.

John was glad that Gray couldn’t see his face, as he barely managed to stop laughing out loud. They were so totally alike. He didn’t need to be able to see Gray to know exactly what expression would be on his face – outrage with more than a hint of resentment, chin sticking out and lips twisted.

“Anyway, it’s not quite what I’d call full strength - a lot of time had passed for Gwen and Eye Candy before we found them, they'd gone native and they’re a bit… damaged, you could say. Broken even. Mind you, didn’t stop that bitch laying into me.” 

John felt the lump on his head, a reminder of Gwen’s attempt to brain him with an Iron Age pot.

“Which one is it then – you know, don’t you?” Gray’s voice betrayed a certain eagerness that had been missing before.

“What do you mean?” John played dumb, hoping that Gray would get distracted again and forget what he’d been asking. “The nastiest? That’s a tough one to call-”

“Which one is his mate? Which one is he fucking?” Gray made it clear in a way that even John couldn’t pretend to misconstrue.

“Does it really matter?” John pressed his hands against the glass and tried one last time to dissuade Gray from a course that could only spell disaster. “You should be concentrating on how to perfect the contrite, prodigal brother bit and hope he buys it, otherwise he’s going to disown you in less time than it takes me to down a bottle of hypervodka.”

“Never – you can’t expect me to pretend to forgive him. If I could kill him and make him stay dead I would – but as I can’t, I’ll take from him what he loves most.” The vitriol was back, once again dripping from every word as Gray got into his stride, his mind focusing on retribution. “It’s the boy, isn’t it?”

“Listen to me, Gray, and listen up good – if you want to stand any chance of ever leaving that cell alive, you’ll forget about your vendetta and keep well away from Ianto Jones-”

“Ianto Jones?” Gray drew out the syllables slowly, savouring each one of them. “Ianto Jones, is it? Thank you for that, now my revenge has a name.” 

“Forget it, Gray – no good will come of that. Trust me, I know your brother in ways you never will and you don’t want to get him pissed off – not now.”

“Oh – that sounds like he’s more than a convenient lay for my dear brother – oh, no, don’t tell me he loves him?” Gray’s laughter was hateful and vindictive. “That is so sweet and so perfect.”

“I didn’t say a bloody word – you’re making all this up in that fucked-up head of yours.”

John was getting worried now, he genuinely didn’t want Gray to hurt Jack anymore and Eye Candy had been through enough shit already. If only he could get through to Gray.

“So then, are you going to open these cells or what?” Gray called out, breaking through John’s thoughts.

“Why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because my brother will kill you when he comes back – you’ve served your purpose, you gave in and helped him fetch his toys back from over the fence. He’s got no reason to keep you alive, none at all. Think about it – what can you possibly offer him now?”

John turned away from the window and lay back down on the hard bench. He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering when one of the most unhinged characters he’d ever met seemed to be the voice of reason. If he’d ever fooled himself into thinking he stood another chance of a relationship with Jack he knew it was over. He had to admit – Gray had a point. If he stayed where he was, he may as well be waiting for his execution, or worse - after all, that trip back in time hadn’t done Eye Candy any good at all and if that wound festered any more and he died … 

A slow death, that’s what Jack had promised him with and he knew just what that entailed. Jack had made torture into an art form in his heyday and there was no way that John was going to allow himself to be used as a muse for his ex-partner’s inner hate-demon. 

“What’s to stop me making a run for it on my own?” asked John. “I could just leave you here, as a gift that just keeps on giving.”

“I’ll make my brother believe that I’m like this because of you, what you did to me. He’d never forgive you. He’d hunt you down and make you pay.”

“You really are a complete shit, aren’t you?” John rolled off the bench and chuckled to himself. “You are so like him when he was younger.”

“Come on, stop wasting time. How are you going to get us out?”

“I managed to keep hold of a small remote-control device. Hid it carefully and don’t ask - you really don’t want to know.” 

John grinned as he fingered the thin, flexible card concealed in the palm of his hand. He’d fished it out earlier as discreetly as possible from deep between his arse cheeks. If Jack had been in a friendlier mood he’d have probably found it when he’d frisked him earlier. 

“I’ve been using it to block the audio feed from the cells, just in case.”

“You think he’s listening? Watching?”

“Maybe – there are cameras up there. Although there’s a good chance he’s far too busy for that, there’s no point taking unnecessary risks. Now all I need to do is to arrange a loop on the visuals and then pop the locks.”

“You could have done that hours ago!” yelled Gray, infuriated. 

“Stop being a bloody drama queen. Right – this is the deal, I’ll get us out of here and then you can do whatever you want. I just want to get hold of that wrist strap – then I am out of this dump and I never want to see you again. Got it?”

John didn’t know what the hell he was doing really, but it struck him that dealing with the devil was worth it if it saved his own skin. Jack’s team could deal with Gray. He’d had enough, he’d been led around like a dog on a leash, first by Gray and then by Jack. Now he was going to take control over what happened to him, he was going to get out of Cardiff and never return. Not because he hated Jack, far from it. But he’d made it abundantly clear there was no place here for John.


	28. Chapter 28

The camera that was set up to monitor activity in the cells stopped in its arc from one end of the corridor to the other, coming to focus on the centre cell occupied by a snoring weevil. John couldn’t be bothered setting up a loop of himself pretending to sleep, so instead set up the CCTV to zoom in on the noisy beast in the cell next to his. 

As he used his universal remote-control to unlock the door of his cell, he hesitated briefly- he could almost hear the chorus from the saner reaches of his brain urging him to leave Gray to face the music and to just get the hell out of there, but he couldn’t resist one last look. That was his next mistake in a long line of errors. The figure inside looked pathetic, his blood-spattered jacket still hanging off one arm where Jack had ripped it away to deal with the bullet wound inflicted by the Torchwood medic. 

John wondered what Jack would do with the kid. He was fairly confident that even if Jack was still the ruthless bastard he’d known in the past, he wouldn’t be able to kill or harm his own brother. So, it wouldn’t hurt to leave Gray in his cell and get away whilst he still had the chance. After all, it didn’t matter what lies he chose to tell Jack, the situation between them was now irredeemable. 

Turning on his heel, John was about to leave the cell block when his conscience piped up from the depths of his being, pleased with his apparent decision - informing him that it would have been totally irresponsible to release Gray, that the boy was dangerously unstable. 

Unfortunately, John never had much time for his conscience. It was a party-pooper. 

He glanced back at the inhabitant of the cell behind him. Standing on the other side of the door, Gray shook his head slowly as he surveyed the bruised and battered face of John. 

“So that’s how my brother expresses his gratitude to you for saving his beloved companions?” mocked Gray, laughing mirthlessly. “Beats the crap out of you and throws you in a cell. I bet you’re glad you decided to reunite him with his lover now.”

Gray pointed at the injuries on John’s face. The split lip, black eye and grazed forehead did nothing to refute his assertions. If there was one thing that really got to John, it was being laughed at or ridiculed. All of a sudden it didn’t matter that in the past he and Jack would have imparted worse injuries on each other after a night of drunken, rough sex.

“It wasn’t just him,” John growled. He recalled how they had all turned on him, each and every one of the bastards had rejected him and his attempts to make things right. He cast his mind back to the violence imparted on him, or threatened, by every member of Jack’s team.

“And you’re just going to let them get away with that?” taunted Gray. “You do know he’ll never want you again – no matter what you do. Hell, he can’t even bear to look at you.” 

“I don’t care,” snarled John. “All I want to do is get out of here – I don’t give a shit about anything else.” 

However, the seeds of doubt had not only been sown, they’d germinated and were rapidly sending down roots into the vestiges of John’s soul. Could he really let this ultimate degradation go unchallenged, unanswered?

“Come on, get me out of here and we’ll make them pay,” goaded Gray, sensing the moment he’d hit his mark. “It’s not as if my brother can be permanently killed, is it?”

John wavered for a fraction of a second, just enough time for his vindictive side to take hold of the reins and steer him on a course that could only lead to tragedy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where d’you think you’re going?” Jack mumbled as he reached out to stop Ianto slipping out of the bed.

Ianto sighed as he looked over his shoulder. Jack’s arm was pinning him down and the expression on his face also made it clear that he wasn’t going to let him out of his sight without a valid reason. Much as he would have liked to crawl back under the covers and take comfort in the warmth and strength of Jack’s body, there was work to do, issues to be tackled and he’d rather to do so from behind the safety of a suit. He was uncomfortably aware of the raw nerves and painful memories that had nothing to do with his physical condition, and wanted to keep them protected from the rest of the team. Confessing to Jack had been hard enough and there was still more that he needed to tell him, matters that would have to wait until the time was right. It had been evident that Jack knew there was more, but he was giving him space and for that Ianto was grateful.

“I was thinking that maybe I could get a shower and find some clothes, if that’s alright?”

“What if I like you all mussed up… and naked… and here in my bed?” Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist and pressed a series of kisses down his spine as he teased him.

“Oh God, Jack… I have missed this so fucking much, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

Ianto closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back allowing Jack to tenderly lavish him with the attention his body had craved for months. Despite the extreme provocation, however, he steeled himself once more and sat up, noting the pout on Jack’s lips as their journey south had been prematurely terminated.

“I’d love to stay here all day, more than you could possibly imagine, but the others will be back within the hour and I’d like to be less… sticky. And dressed. I’d particularly like to be wearing more than a silly smile when I next see Owen, otherwise he’ll refuse to let me have any more of the good drugs.” 

Ianto leaned over to plant a lingering kiss on Jack’s mouth and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, getting up quickly before his own body persuaded him otherwise.

Jack smiled as he released his grip, only for the frown to return as he watched his lover make his way towards the ladder. He sat up quickly as he realised that Ianto was about to leave.

“Hey, you can shower down here. I’ve got clothes you can borrow-”

“No offence, Jack, but I’d really like to wear my own clothes.” Ianto looked wistful as he wondered what had become of his favourite suit. “I’ve missed them.”

“Of course. You gonna be OK?” asked Jack, trying to sound nonchalant and coming across as anxious.

Sitting up in the bed, Jack slowly appraised Ianto’s lean physique as he stood there, unselfconsciously leaning against the ladder that led up into the office. Slimmer, wirier maybe … but still quintessentially Ianto, right down to the way he had one hand propped on his hip, how he always did when he was considering something carefully.

“Eventually…” Ianto couldn’t lie to Jack and say he’d be fine, because he knew he wouldn’t be, not for a while. “I just need to work on getting my head sorted.”

“Give yourself time. Don’t try to come to terms with everything at once. Trust me on that.” Jack smiled at his words, realising that he was giving Ianto advice that he ought to take on board himself and probably wouldn’t. “Join me for breakfast in... say twenty minutes?”

“Make it thirty,” replied Ianto, rubbing a hand over the straggly beard on his chin. “I’m going to try to tackle this.”

Jack nodded and resisted the temptation to leap out of bed and pull Ianto into a fiercely possessive embrace. He wanted so much to protect him, yet at the same time recognised the fact that he had to work through this and deal with it on his own terms. 

Ianto turned and, stretching up, took hold of the rung of the ladder that was just above his head. However, just as he was about to haul himself away from the warmth and comfort on offer in Jack’s bed, its occupant called out to him:

“Hey! You really gonna walk around like that?” asked Jack, raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief as he pointed at one part of Ianto’s anatomy that was begging for attention.

“What, naked?” Ianto glared at Jack meaningfully. “There’s no-one else around… yet. And I’m sure I can rely on you to copy and delete any footage later, can’t I?”

“You can bet on it.”

With that, Ianto made a show of climbing slowly up the ladder, giving Jack a splendid view of supple limbs, strong thighs and a gorgeous arse. In other circumstances, Jack would be dragging him back down that ladder so fast his feet wouldn’t touch the ground. Either that or racing after him. But, sadly, Ianto had been right, there was work to do. 

Sharing a shower wouldn’t help matters and he had a feeling that Ianto needed some time alone and that was something they always respected for each other. It was one of the things he truly loved about Ianto, the fact that he understood the importance of personal space and solitude.

Jack sighed as he looked at his watch, all too soon Gwen and the others would be back in, and then it would be time for some serious discussions and decisions regarding the future of the two men languishing in the cells. Even though one was his younger brother and the other an ex-lover, they’d been hell-bent on destroying what transitory happiness he’d found for himself, not to mention the whole city of Cardiff, which meant he felt no guilt at leaving them locked away for the time being. 

For some reason, it seemed that the universe hated him, choosing this moment, in what was likely to be an immeasurably long existence, to have his past collide with the present in a way that could only lead to mutually assured destruction. Neither could exist alongside the other. He had options of course, all of them requiring sacrifice. He couldn’t appoint himself judge and executioner of either man that he’d once loved, but then again, he couldn’t allow them to stay here and threaten the lives of those he was devoted to now. There were few alternatives open to him. 

Jack picked up the pillow on which Ianto had eventually fallen asleep, brought it close to his face and deeply inhaled the scent of his lover. He struggled to work out how the hell could he resolve this mess he’d been plunged into without causing even more heartache and pain?


	29. Chapter 29

The cold metal grid of the walkways felt strange underfoot, but the skin on the soles of his feet had become calloused from walking on rough terrain without much protection. The sounds of the Hub at rest would also take getting used to again. The clicking and humming of electronic equipment as it performed routine back-ups and systems checks throughout the night was accompanied by the trickling of water from the fountain above. Ianto sighed wistfully, missing the quietness of pre-dawn in the wilds, where the only sounds to be heard were those of wild animals going about their business. The artificial soundscape irritated his ears and he’d never been more aware of how unnatural the environment of the Hub was, far from natural light and out of sync with the natural rhythms of the day. 

Startled by the unexpected rustle of paperwork sliding from a desk and scattering as it hit the floor, Ianto automatically crouched down and scanned his surroundings for signs of danger. Furtively, he looked from side to side, seeking the source of the disturbance, acting on instincts developed over the preceding months when he’d been out on his own foraging for food and firewood. 

Ianto looked up as a sudden swooping, whooshing sound announced the presence of a large prehistoric creature that wheeled overhead.

“Hey there, girl, I missed you!” called out Ianto, smiling to himself as he relaxed. He shook himself as it appeared that it had been the pteranodon that had sent the paperwork flying. “Still helping the team with their filing, I see. Hope you recognise me, because I’m all out of chocolate.”

A shrieking sound emanated from Myfanwy as she swept low over Ianto’s head, reminding him of the times when she’d been out hunting and brought back the remnants of her kill for him, in much the same way that domestic cats leave offerings for their humans. 

“I’d better not find any uneaten parts of a sheep carcass lying around when I put the lights on later – make sure you find all the bits and eat them before the rest come in, OK?”

Ianto could only imagine how his friends from the village would have reacted to seeing Myfanwy fly off with one of their flock in her clawed feet.

Shrugging his shoulders, Ianto got to his feet and walked purposefully towards the team shower block and lockers, the feeling of being watched having been mostly dispelled. Behind him, the pteranodon continued her airborne patrol, occasionally swooping forward, her sharp talons grasping at air as if she was pursuing an invisible prey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Ianto disappeared from sight, John let out an appreciative sigh. If he had ever wondered what Jack saw in Eye Candy, he didn’t any more. Even after being stranded in primitive conditions for several months, the boy was surprisingly fit looking and unquestionably well enough endowed to keep Jack from complaining. It occurred to John that despite the fact that in the past Jack would have been happy to share, he’d probably shoot John just for suggesting it.

Turning to look at Gray, he could see that he was still glaring at him for knocking the file off one of the desks. It wasn’t his fault that Eye Candy had wandered past their position stark bollock naked and so deliciously vulnerable that he couldn’t help thinking it was a trap, and that Jack would come leaping out to drop a net over their heads.

There’d been no chance to find out whether or not it was a trap. John had panicked at the sudden and terrifying sight of leathery wings as they swept through the shadows. The high-pitched screeching only seeming to confirm his suspicions that it was a Reaper – one of the universe’s invisible menders of paradoxes and tears in time. He’d not stopped to think; he’d just shoved Gray out of sight under a work bench and crawled in after him, clamping a hand over his mouth and holding it there until there were no more sounds to be heard. By the time they emerged from the cramped space, Eye Candy was wandering out of sight, having escaped the attention of the Reaper. John shuddered at what he assumed had been a very close call.

It took a few moments before he remembered that team Torchwood kept a pet pterodactyl. He decided not to mention that to Gray. 

Gray was determined to follow Ianto whilst John just wanted to find a functioning vortex manipulator and leave. The matter was decided by the fact that they both needed weapons to successfully achieve their goals. Unfortunately, there was a certain prehistoric flying reptile that was refusing to let them across the open area of the Hub to the armoury. There was no option but to retreat back towards the cells and the lower levels, hoping there would be something down there that they could use as an offensive weapon. 

John hoped that in the chaos from the previous day perhaps Jack had left the assorted firearms and blades he’d taken from them in a less secure location than the main armoury. There was a good chance his blaster and Gray’s sword would be relatively easy to locate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luxuriating in the sensations of liquid heat and clean scents, Ianto was sure he’d never take hot running water for granted again. He’d noted from the contents of the waste bin, overflowing with empty shower gel and shampoo bottles, that Gwen had also made the most of her opportunity to scrub away the grime that had built up over months with nothing more than brisk baths in freezing cold streams. Awkwardly reaching round to scrub the back of his neck he almost regretted not having asked Jack to join him. Yet standing under the running water gave him time to think, to visualise the bad experiences being sluiced away from him like the rivulets of foam sliding down his body. Jack would only have distracted him, not that he’d have objected, but there were questions he needed answers to and he needed a clear head for that, something he knew he’d forfeit if he gave in to the temptations of morning sex. 

Sensing that he’d been standing there for quite a while, Ianto reluctantly turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist before walking across to the fogged-up mirrors. Wiping the steam away with his hand so he could see his reflection, he pondered what to do with the beard. He could just chop the bulk of it away then shave clean what was left. But he really didn’t want to rush things – he’d got used to the beard. So, he compromised, using scissors to carefully trim the beard and a razor to tidy it up around the edges. There was nothing he could do with his hair other than pull a comb through it and let it drip dry. The fact that Jack had made it clear how much he liked to run his hands through the longer curls granted them a reprieve anyway.

Ianto normally kept a range of spare clothing and toiletries in his locker for all occasions, including a spare suit and some casual clothes for wearing when he had especially dirty jobs to deal with around the Hub. The texture of the fine woollen suit felt exquisite as he held the jacket sleeve to his face, especially soft after being given no option but to wear clothes made of coarse, scratchy wool, with fragments of sticks and straw caught in the weave. Ianto had already put on a long-sleeved shirt in preference to a t-shirt, the cool, white cotton a welcome relief after months of rough woven tunics that had itched and irritated his skin on a daily basis. He was also conscious of the scratches and bite marks on his arms and wondered if covering them up would do something to stop those pitying looks that Jack kept throwing in his direction. He did not need pity. 

He’d pulled on a pair of suit trousers before realising there were no shoes in his locker and he couldn’t bring himself to wear a charcoal suit with either brown walking boots or his old, scuffed trainers spattered with pteranodon guano. As he stood there, annoyed at being thwarted in his attempts to dress smartly, he realised that even if he had the right footwear, the suit trousers were now hanging off him, far too loose and baggy. Reluctantly he took them off, sighing as he returned them to the hanger with the jacket and grabbed hold of a pair of dark blue jeans instead. They’d been snug-fitting before, so they’d be fine if he wore them with a belt. 

Ianto smiled to himself as he tugged at the laces of his leather boots. It felt odd to be wearing socks and proper footwear again after months of going barefoot or wearing sandals made of scraps of leather crudely stitched together. Deciding that he’d tackle Jack’s concerns directly, he rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows which felt more comfortable with jeans, then slipped on the charcoal waistcoat from his suit, leaving it unbuttoned. He shrugged, thinking it didn’t look too shabby. The feel of the soft, fine fabrics against his skin was as heavenly as the sheets had been the night before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack smiled sadly as he approached Ianto, who stood by his beloved coffee machine, trying to remember where everything was. He watched on as the younger man began to slowly gather together what he needed to make the first cup of coffee for a very long time. He recalled having shared a cup with him the morning before and wondered if Ianto remembered that.

“Nice outfit – I’d like to see you wear that more often.” When in doubt Jack always resorted to flirting. It was his safe place. 

“I wish you’d have told me that before, would’ve saved me a bloody fortune in suits.” Ianto turned and smiled back at Jack. Both of them were painfully aware that their smiles didn’t make it quite as far as their eyes. With the new day had come a time of reckoning. 

“Hungry?” Jack picked up on the need to steer clear of anything serious until the others arrived.

“Ravenous.”

“There might be some bread left – probably stale though.” Jack frowned as he pointed at the plastic bag containing two crusts and a solitary slice of wholemeal bread.

Ianto opened the packet and took out a crust, ripping it into pieces and cramming them into his mouth. Yes, it was stale, but it was the softest, tastiest bread he’d had in months. As he chewed it, he recalled there was a jar of jam in the fridge and he wasted no time finding it, grabbing a spoon and devouring the strawberry conserve by the spoonful.

There was part of Jack that thought that the sight of Ianto eating with such complete abandon was adorable and another that wanted to weep thinking of how hungry he must have been for so damn long. Ianto caught his eye and defiantly stared back as he suggestively swept his tongue over the spoon capturing every last delicious morsel. 

Understanding exactly what Ianto was attempting to convey, Jack grinned and moved close enough to lick away a stray smear of jam from his lover’s lips and then kiss him slowly, tasting the sweetness in his mouth as he did so.

Their moment of intimacy was interrupted by the sound of the alarms announcing the arrival of at least one of their team mates. Pressing a gentle kiss to Ianto’s brow, Jack looked across the Hub to see Gwen, who, to Jack’s annoyance, had brought Rhys in with her. 

Gwen’s hair was still in a long braid, but it was shining and glossy, much more like the woman he knew. However, the jeans and a loose t-shirt didn’t hide the fact that she was also much slimmer, and Jack realised that the blusher on her cheeks was an attempt to disguise how pale she’d become. 

Shifting his gaze from Gwen to her husband. He could feel his hackles rise just seeing the disgruntled look on the man’s face.

“Before you have a go at Gwen, it was my idea,” declared Rhys, puffing out his chest as he glared at Jack. “I told her that if she was insisting on coming back to work after the hell she’s been through, then she’d have to take me in with her. There’s no way I was letting her out of my sight, not after-”

“Seriously, Jack – I had to kick him out of the bathroom-”

“Stop there!” implored Jack. “Too much information – even for me, and that’s saying something.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that!” came Gwen’s fond response. 

Rhys shook his head and wondered when would be best to demand explanations. He needed to know just how his wife had been thrown into the past and got stuck there for no less than seven months. There was also part of him that wasn’t keen on her being alone with Ianto, especially after hearing her call out the man’s name in her sleep during the night and then again as she reached out to wrap an arm around his waist as she started to wake up.

“God, is that coffee I can smell?” Gwen inhaled deeply and then dashed across, bypassing Jack as she rushed over to Ianto, enthusiastically embracing him in a crushing hug, one that was returned with unabashed affection. “Ianto, you’re a saint, you know that?” 

“Let’s hope I’ve remembered how to make it the way you like,” replied Ianto, as he kissed Gwen tenderly on the cheek. 

Rhys glanced away from his wife to see the way that Jack was looking at Ianto and then their eyes met in sympathy. Their significant others had shared experiences that they knew next to nothing about. There was something between Gwen and Ianto that hadn’t existed twenty-four hours ago and at that moment neither Jack nor Rhys knew how to deal with it. 

Before either man had a chance to dwell on it any further, a shrill warning siren cut through the air. There had been a security breach somewhere in the Hub.


	30. Chapter 30

Rhys rushed to Gwen’s side and took hold of her arm possessively, pulling her away from Ianto.

“What the fuck’s going on, Gwen? It’s not safe here - I’m taking you back home!” 

“Not now, Rhys!” Gwen shook his hand from her arm and returned to Ianto’s side automatically. It had been instilled in both of them over the past seven months that whenever there was a threat of any kind, they would stand together. 

“When did you last check the cells?” Ianto looked over Gwen’s shoulder as he directed his question at Jack.

“Damn.” Jack moved fast, running across to the nearest work station and logging on to check the source of the security alert.

Ianto followed swiftly once he’d reluctantly moved away from Gwen. He’d seen the jealous look on Rhys’ face and felt a mixture of guilt and anger, but this wasn’t the time to deal with what had happened on the Solstice. However, he couldn’t help wondering what the hell Gwen had told her husband that would have him staring daggers at him like that. Taking a deep breath Ianto put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and focused on the current crisis.

“Who is it, your brother or Hart?” Ianto whispered so that Gwen couldn’t hear. He didn’t know if Jack had mentioned Gray to her. He was having enough trouble getting his own head around what Jack had told him concerning the events of the past twenty-four hours in the Hub.

“Both,” Jack hissed. He’d had to reboot the camera as it was focused on the centre, weevil-occupied cell, but as soon as it recommenced scanning the whole row of cells it was all too evident that two were currently empty. Jack paled as he brought up the views of the cells in which the two men had been placed.

“Jack, what the hell’s going on?” Gwen demanded as she leaned forward to get a better look at the screen. “It’s that bastard Hart, isn’t it?” 

“There isn’t time for all your questions, Gwen, but the short answer is yes. Not just him, my brother Gray as well – they’ve both escaped and we need to find them or contain them before-”

“So what John told us about your brother – that was true then? He’s behind all of this?”

“It’s complicated, Gwen,” sighed Jack, all too aware of the fact that time was against them. However, after what Gwen had been through she deserved some explanation, as did Ianto. “I … it was a long time ago, we were kids, there was an attack and I was meant to look after him and I let go of his damn hand … I lost him. If I hadn’t let go, none of this would be happening!”

“I don’t understand, what’s that got to do with John bloody Hart and what happened to me and Ianto?”

Gwen’s tone was accusing and her body language threatening, but Jack sensed Ianto moving closer to his side, he could feel his breath on his neck. Ianto already knew about that fateful day on the Boeshane Peninsula, Jack had told him all about it. It had been late one night, not long after he’d returned from his year in hell. He’d woken up from a flashback nightmare that left him screaming Gray’s name. Although Jack rarely divulged information about his family, there was no way he could deny his lover the facts, not having seen the devastated look on Ianto’s face as he asked if he would be leaving to look for Gray. John’s throwaway line, the words that caused Jack to freeze on the spot, combined with the older man calling out desperately for Gray in his sleep had only served to heighten Ianto’s insecurity and Jack had needed to reassure him.

“He was captured and tortured, driven insane,” Jack continued, gratefully grasping hold of Ianto’s hand that had been thrust into his as if to lend him strength. “Then John found him and … and then Gray used John to get to me. He wants revenge.”

“Oh my God, Jack. I’m so sorry.” Gwen put her hand to her mouth, not knowing who to feel for most, Jack or his brother, twisted and tormented out of his mind. “Can’t we talk to him? Try to get him to understand?”

“I thought I could – it only made things worse.” Jack shook his head sadly. “Trust me, he doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say.”

“But-”

“Gwen – leave it for now.” Ianto fixed Gwen with a look that brooked no argument, one he’d used whenever he had to shut her up in order to keep them both alive. “We need to find where they’ve got to – you could start going through the security camera feeds, but it looks like John Hart has something that can interfere with standard surveillance gear. I’ll check the heat sensors, see if they can pick anything up.”

Ianto gently squeezed Jack’s shoulder before heading across to another work station, letting him know that he was standing by him no matter what.

“Hang on a bit – so are you saying that this John Hart bloke and your brother kidnapped my Gwen and left her in the past and now they’re at loose?” bellowed Rhys. He was outraged and jabbed a finger in Jack’s direction as he lunged at him belligerently. 

Jack bristled at the tone in Rhys’ voice and the fact that this had become all about Gwen, whilst Ianto had also been taken and had suffered far more as a consequence. He responded by moving forward to meet Rhys, his own hands clenched into fists.

“Stop this, now!” ordered Ianto, speaking quietly, yet forcefully, as he swiftly stepped between the two men, prepared to intercept any punches dished out if necessary. “For now, I suggest we find out where the hell they are and deal with them. That security alarm, Jack – where was it been triggered?”

Jack glared at Rhys, but responded to Ianto’s gently assertive presence as he refocused on the matter at hand. He’d deal with Gwen’s domestic issues later and he’d make damn sure that Rhys Williams realised that the reason his wife was still alive was because Ianto had protected her at all costs.

“The weapons deposit cabinet in the vaults. The secondary alarm went off, the one that registers removal of weaponry without the authorisation codes.”

“Oh, that’s great news!” declared Rhys sarcastically. “So now these bastards are armed!”

“Not helping, Rhys!” Gwen had moved to stand in front of Rhys, putting her hands on his shoulders and gently pushing him back. 

Gwen was all too aware that it had been a mistake agreeing to bring Rhys in with her, but there’d been no way of dissuading him. He was still trying to compensate for seven months of not being there for her, feeling bad about something he’d had no control over. There had been a time when she’d wanted Rhys to know all about her job, now she almost regretted that decision. The roles of loving wife and member of Torchwood were not ones she could fulfil simultaneously; as she’d discovered the minute she’d walked into the Hub that morning.

“I’m trying to look out for you, Gwen. Bloody hell – is it always this bloody dangerous? You’d be better off back on the beat – bollocks to the extra cash, what’s the point of it all if –”

“Rhys – I mean it, we’ve got work to do and you’re not helping!”

Gwen was standing with her feet apart, hands on hips and face like thunder. She could see the fury in her husband’s reddened face, along with wounded pride and fear. She’d missed him terribly and now, within hours of reuniting, she was arguing with him. Behind her she could hear Ianto talking urgently to Jack.

“Weapons – what have they got Jack?” Ianto raised his voice slightly to be heard above the bickering. “What do we need to defend ourselves against?” 

“Depends on what they got out before the unit sealed – looks like they temporarily broke the seal, so it could be anything from a blaster to a sword- make that swords plural.” 

“Swords?”

Ianto smiled wistfully as he thought of his own much-treasured broadsword that he’d bestowed on a quiet boy the day before. Two thousand years ago. It would be nothing but rust by now. He shrugged off the memory and set about reacquainting himself with the keyboard of the computer he was standing in front of. 

“Right then, next step is to trace heat sources and see if we can find out their whereabouts.”

“Ianto, can you-?”

“Onto it now, Jack.” Ianto quickly started up the program to locate all sizeable heat sources within the base. “You might want to get in touch with Tosh and Owen, let them know-”

“No need – they’re coming in from the garage now,” interrupted Gwen, spotting their colleagues on the CCTV feed. “I’ll call them.”

“Jack! I’ve detected two separate signals on the move – one in the vaults and the other in the archives.”

Jack rushed to Ianto’s side to check his findings, willing there to have been some error.

“Damn, they’ve split up, which means-”

“We need to as well – two groups.”

“You’re with me -”

“No.” Ianto shook his head solemnly as he locked eyes with Jack. “You need to stay with Gwen and Rhys. You take the vaults. I’ll go with Tosh and Owen and check the archives.”

Biting his tongue, Jack nodded. Much as he wanted to stay by Ianto’s side and keep him safe, he could see that his option was the more logical suggestion. Gwen wouldn’t leave Rhys and he could hardly have them both sit it out in the boardroom and he’d also picked up on the fact that Rhys wasn’t happy with Ianto anywhere near his wife for some reason. Tosh had been shot yesterday and he figured that Owen wouldn’t let her out of his sight. This meant there was no choice but for him and Ianto to split up. 

Jack shuddered as he had the unsettling sensation of someone walk over his grave, which, for a man who couldn’t die, didn’t bode well.


	31. Chapter 31

Biting his lower lip anxiously, Ianto looked away from Jack, no longer able to stand the way his eyes were burning into him. He’d been dragged out of the calm, lonely existence he’d resigned himself to in the past and suddenly thrown back into the frenetic, emotionally charged atmosphere of Torchwood. 

Individuals from Jack’s past had come to visit and seemed hellbent on destroying the present. He breathed in slowly through his nose and exhaled from his mouth, focussing on what had to be done: comm’s, weapons, locating targets and neutralising them. Easy. 

Except one was Jack’s amoral and dangerous ex, and the other was his long-lost brother, the one he’d wept over when he’d told Ianto about the day he’d let go of his hand. So, a shoot to kill policy was probably not going to be an acceptable option.

Tucking one hand under the edge of the dark waistcoat so that it was resting on his denim clad hip, Ianto turned to look at Jack, who appeared at a loss for a moment. 

“Jack – you probably want to sort out some weapons and then lock down the armoury, right?” 

He tried hard to make his suggestion sound like something he assumed Jack was about to do anyway.

“Yeah, you must’ve read my mind, again.” 

Jack flashed Ianto a look of gratitude. His eyes were drawn to the way in which Ianto very deliberately raised a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, surreptitiously tapping the lobe of his ear as he did so. However different he appeared, with his long hair and neatly trimmed beard, Ianto was still doing his best to support Jack, as he always did.

“Gwen – we’ll all need comm units, sort them out, will you?” Jack spared Ianto a quick wink. “I’ll rely on you making sure Rhys knows how to use one, seeing as you brought him in with you.”

“No problem, I’ll do that.” Gwen nodded, grateful for something constructive to do that had the added bonus of getting her out of the line of fire. She was unable to take sides and the awkward atmosphere between the three men she loved, albeit in totally different ways, was taking its toll on her.

Jack didn’t miss the way that Rhys relaxed, the whiteness fading from the knuckles of his clenched fists as the distance between Gwen and Ianto increased. He also noted that Rhys moved back a few steps. 

“Rhys – with me, now,” Jack gave an order and noted the relieved look on Ianto’s face as he led the confounded civilian towards the armoury. Looking back, he noticed the way that Ianto ran his hand through his longer hair as he concentrated on the job at hand. Yet again he felt a surge of pride as he imagined Ianto taking charge in the last seven months of his life, making decisions and taking risks, all the time not expecting to ever return back to his own time. He could see that the ordeal had changed his lover and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Unlocking the armoury door, Jack indicated for Rhys to wait by the long metal bench and told him not to touch anything.

“I’ll give you a stun gun – simple enough to use, but only at close quarters, and only if you need to defend yourself. Let’s avoid that being necessary. I want you to stay in the middle, between me and Gwen, at all times. Got it?”

“No worries, I’ve got that.” It occurred to Rhys that he was going to make sure he stood between Gwen and any perceived danger, no matter what Jack Harkness tried to tell him. “Not letting you or her out of my sight, trust me-”

That was too much for Jack and he wheeled around, grabbing a handful of Rhys’ jacket and pushing him against the bench.

“No. You don’t get it. Gwen is a trained operative and will guard our backs and I’ll be up front to save your ass if I have to. But right now, I’m not so sure I’d want to! What is it with you Rhys? Sure, be pissed with what happened to Gwen – but why are you being such an asshole? Haven’t you talked to her? Don’t you get it that Ianto kept her alive and untouched?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ask Gwen – but take it from me, Ianto went through hell to make sure she didn’t starve or freeze to death. As for the rest – go figure!”

Rhys crumpled, the wind having knocked from his sails as he looked contrite. 

“Shit, I’ve been a bit of a prick, haven’t I?”

“Since you put it that way, yeah. Gwen and Ianto have been through a nightmare, Rhys, they need time to recover and right now, there’s no way we can give them that. As soon as we’ve dealt with Gray and John, then we’ll all be able to come to terms with what happened.”

“Bollocks. I didn’t think about it like that,” mumbled Rhys, his head aching as the multiple issues began to occur to him. Then, determined to try to make up for his behaviour, he pointed at the stun gun. “How does that thing work then?”

“Here – take this, see the trigger there? Only squeeze it when this part is pressed against the person you’re using it on. Try to avoid using it on the head or too close to the heart if you can-”

“Right – thanks, Jack.” His look of sincerity made it clear Rhys wasn’t just talking about the stun gun.

“You’re welcome.” Jack met Rhys’ eyes and then tilted his chin up to make his warning crystal clear. “But trust me, if you go anywhere near Ianto with that, I shall shoot you. That understood?”

“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“You could say that.” Jack glared at Rhys, hoping he got the message and backed off. “OK – let’s get back to the others. We’re wasting time.”

As Jack led the way back from the armoury he caught sight of Owen and Tosh being briefed by Ianto. Tosh was standing stiffly, a hand placed protectively over the bulky bandage that was noticeable under her blouse. Owen had an arm about her shoulders, holding her close as he pointed at Ianto’s own barely healed injury, no doubt asking how it was faring. Jack placed the firearms and cartridge magazines on the nearest flat surface. Looking around at the expectant faces, all waiting for his commands, it occurred to him that these people didn’t deserve to be put in any more danger because of his actions in the past or present. 

“Change of plan. I want everyone out – I’m putting the base into lockdown and will deal with this alone.”

“Like hell you will,” snarled Owen. “This isn’t just about you any more.”

“Jack, you’ve many talents, as I can vouch for,” stated Ianto, as he raised an eyebrow. “But being in two places at once isn’t one of them. You can’t take them on alone. You need us.”

“He’s right, Jack. We’re not going anywhere.” Tosh took a semi automatic handgun from the desk top and slotted the magazine firmly into place, making it clear she meant business.

“Gwen – you could take Rhys home, to safety.” Jack knew she’d never forgive him if anything happened to husband. Last time it had triggered a mutiny that had left him dead for days. 

“She could, but I think we owe to you to stick around and help.” Rhys wrapped an arm around Gwen, glad that she leaned into him this time, welcoming his support. 

“Right then, if you’re all sure about this, let’s do it.” Jack smiled grimly as he turned to Ianto who was monitoring the heat signals on the computer. “Where are they now?”

“One is still in the vaults, hardly moving at the moment… and the other is … was in the archives… hang on… the archive database has been accessed.”

“Damn – any idea what they were looking for?”

“Not from here. But the heat signal seems to have disappeared for now. There are shielded rooms down there, impenetrable to outside sensors, perhaps he’s in one of those?”

“Damn – right, I’ll take the archives then and you can check the vaults-”

“Jack, it’s my territory, if I search down there I’ll know if anything’s been interfered with or moved.”

Jack was torn between accepting Ianto’s impeccable logic, or screaming out that it had all the hallmarks of a trap and he wasn’t going to just let Ianto walk straight into it. One glance at his lover told him that this was yet another argument that wasn’t worth starting as his chances of winning were non-existent.

“Agreed, but please take care, Ianto.”

“I promise.” Ianto resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, as he could see how worried Jack was. 

“OK, let’s do this, people.”

As the team broke apart into two groups of three, one heading for the stairway leading down into the vaults, where the cells were situated, and the other towards Ianto’s precious archives, Jack fought the urge to rush over to Ianto, crush him to his chest and kiss him for all he was worth. Later, he promised himself, he’d do that later, when this was finished with. Taking the lead as they made their way down the metal steps, Jack hoped he wouldn’t have cause to regret postponing his demonstration of affection. 

Gwen held her gun two-handed as she scanned the dim recesses of the darkened corridors. Her night sight had improved from the time spent out of artificial lighting and she was confident that if anything was there she’d spot it. The tension emanating from Jack was tangible as they progressed from one level to the next, taking care not to disturb weevils or the sleeping Hoix on their way. 

Eventually they heard what sounded like singing – not particularly tuneful and the lyrics left much to be desired.

“That sounds like a rugby song to me…” whispered Rhys. 

“Singin’ balls to your partner, arse against the wall, if you can’t get-”

“You’re gonna give the weevils a headache if you don’t stop serenading them.” Jack aimed his gun at a spot between John’s eyes. “Put your hands on your head and stand up.”

John Hart had been sitting on a chair, tilted back against the wall opposite a row of cells occupied by weevils. As he let the chair slam back on all four legs, he let the blaster fall from his lap onto the floor, making no attempt to pick it up. His face was swollen in places from the multiple blows he’d been subjected to the day before, the cuts to his lips scabbing over and his grubby black shirt looking even filthier than before. 

“Took your time- I was getting bored. Was thinking of letting these guys out for some exercise if you didn’t get a move on.”

“Sorry not to have got here earlier to entertain you.”

“That’s all right – you brought company I see, that’s nice. Who’s that though? Don’t know that one.” John sneered as he looked Rhys up and down. He wasn’t his type at all … he’d never been much into cuddling. Then he leered as he looked over to Jack once more. “Where’s Eye Candy? Saw him earlier you know, wandering around with nothing on – nice package, can see what it is about him that gets you all hot and bothered.”

Jack refused to rise to the bait, but was horrified at the thought of the danger that Ianto had been in earlier. He shuddered to think what might have happened. The smirk on John’s face hinted at some nefarious plot. 

“What the hell have you done?” Jack demanded.

“You’ve got a bit of a problem you know. That kid brother of yours is a very naughty boy.”

“You let him out, didn’t you? Why?”

“I was pissed off with you. You were a complete wanker to me and I’ve told you enough times not to show me up in front of your friends.”

“So why are you here and not with him?”

“He’s a bloody lunatic and I don’t want to die yet. Anyway, there’s only one thing I want from this shit hole and you’ve got it. So, I thought I’d hang around and wait for you to show up.”

“What do you want?”

“The vortex manipulator.” John became serious, the smug grin falling from his face. “The one that works.”

“What makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

“I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. This is the deal – I help you get psycho-puppy back in his kennel and you let me have the wrist strap.” 

John watched as Jack hesitated, not refusing him outright. He’d figured that he’d have to barter for the device and he’d need a strong gambit. Letting Gray out of his cell was definitely a way to get Jack’s attention. 

“Oh yes, and I know exactly what he’s planning to do.”

Jack had been so intent on finding out what the hell John Hart was up to, that it only just dawned on him that the source of the other heat signal, the one that Ianto, Tosh and Owen were tracking down, had to be Gray. He activated his comm. unit and called out desperately for one of the three to answer him. All he got was white noise.


	32. Chapter 32

It didn’t take long for Ianto to figure out that whoever had got to the computer stationed in the archives had deliberately corrupted the system, making it virtually impossible to determine which files on the database had been accessed most recently. He swore when he realised what a mess it had been left in. It didn’t help that he felt distinctly rusty on what was his own dedicated area of the Torchwood computer network. 

Tosh patted his hand gently as she stepped forward to take his place. He acquiesced without argument, acknowledging her superior skills with anything technological. He watched on in awe as she fetched her glasses from her pocket, propped them delicately on her nose, focused on the screen in front of her and let her fingers fly across the keyboard. She muttered something about resetting to a restore point and flushing out the corrupt command codes. 

As Tosh had sat down on the padded chair, Ianto shared a look with Owen over her head, neither of them had missed the sigh of relief as she took the weight off her feet. They’d both noticed that the walk down the stairs alone had taken it out of her and that she’d been struggling to keep up with them. Owen raised an eyebrow as if to put the onus on Ianto to do or say something. They both knew that Tosh had a soft spot for Ianto and would be less likely to argue with him if he suggested she pull out of the search.

Clearing his throat noisily, Ianto tentatively approached the genius at work.

“Tosh? I think you should stay here and work on that while I go check further ahead. You shouldn’t even be here today, I can tell you’re hurting-”

“Much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.” Tosh paused and looked up from the screen to meet Ianto’s concerned look. “I know I’m just going to slow you two down if you take me with you. I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to worry Jack.” 

“It’s OK, I understand. Anyway, there’s nothing stopping Owen from staying behind and standing guard –”

“And just who will watch your back, Ianto?” Tosh glared at him incredulously, her eyes narrowed.

“She’s got a point, I should come with you.” Owen took his gun from his belt and checked to see if it was loaded, even though he knew it was.

“I can look after myself,” argued Ianto, gritting his teeth. He’d got used to looking out for himself and the implication that he needed back up irritated him. “Trust me, if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have survived long in -” 

“You went native, yeah, I get it,” interrupted Owen. “But the ‘wild man of the woods’ look doesn’t make you bullet proof, if anything it’s likely to make you even more of a target for either one of those fucking wankers! Bloody hell, Hart will probably fancy you even more as a bit of rough.” 

Tosh flinched, as if waiting for the blow to strike and was mildly surprised when it didn’t. She shook her head, as it dawned on her that Owen was winding up Ianto deliberately, to keep him on edge. 

“What about Tosh? She shouldn’t be left here by herself, defenceless-”

“Ianto, you know damn well that I don’t need a body guard. I have a gun and trust me I won’t hesitate to use it if either of those bastards comes anywhere near me.” 

Tosh placed her own weapon on the desk next to the mouse and looked from Ianto to Owen with an evil glint in her eyes. 

“And I know exactly where I’ll be aiming.”

“Owen?” Ianto threw the ball back into Owen’s court quickly as he looked anxious to continue the search. “It’s up to you, but if you’re staying here with Tosh tell me now so I can get moving.”

Ianto scanned the immediate area for any indication at all that there were any undetected hazards. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Tosh on her own, he was certain that he’d never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to her. 

“Well, are you coming or not?” Ianto asked impatiently, partly wishing that Owen would opt to stay behind and look out for Tosh.

“Oh yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Let you walk into a trap on your own and leave me face the wrath of Jack on my own? No fucking way!”

“Coward.” 

“Can I remind you that I don’t mend these days?”

“Come on, we’re wasting time. I just hope it’s Hart, I don’t think I got a turn at punching him and I’d really like the chance before Jack gets to him.”

“Now you’re talking,” smirked Owen, grinning at Ianto. “As long as you let me have a go as well.”

“Hang on – before either of you set off on your revenge seeking mission, look at this. I’ve found something here – whoever broke into the system started off by seeking a specific type of storage facility within the archives-”

“What type?” Ianto was immediately concerned. He knew the type of materials stored in special facilities in his domain and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he considered what mayhem the two escaped prisoners could be planning next.

“Isolated secure storage – narrowing it down – got it! Category BM4TM-10, there’s only one that fits that designation.” Tosh frowned as she read the unique specifications. “It’s something special, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck have you got stashed away in there, Ianto?”

“It’s not what you think,” snapped Ianto, as he forced his clenched fists to stay by his sides, knowing exactly what Owen was alluding to. “It’s a secure chamber, where any artefacts with unidentified residual energy patterns are stored. It’s heavily insulated and shielded so that no electromagnetic radiation can accidentally trigger off any of the devices stored there.”

“Are they that dangerous?” Tosh asked out of curiosity rather than fear.

“I’ve no idea, Tosh. It’s just a standard routine that Jack asked be adopted on anything still activated that he doesn’t recognise.”

“That would account for our missing heat signal then,” Owen ventured. “The bastard is in there, isn’t he?”

“Yep – seems most likely.”

“Does the word ‘trap’ come to mind at all?” demanded Tosh, shocked that neither of the men seemed to be alarmed. “Let’s contact Jack first and see what he thinks.”

“No,” stated Ianto, shaking his head vigorously. “He’ll abandon his own search and make us wait here for him to come and hold our hands, that’s what he’ll do Tosh.”

“Wouldn’t have thought that would bother you, teaboy. You’ve held more than his hand -”

“What’s up?” Ianto sounded exasperated. “Jealous because he prefers to hold hands with me rather than you?”

“Stop it – both of you, this is serious!” Tosh raised her voice. “We really should tell Jack what’s going on.”

“Actually, I find myself agreeing with Ianto for a change – let’s check this storage chamber out first, find out which one of them it is and then contact Jack.”

“He did say we should maintain radio silence unless there was a serious problem –” Ianto shrugged, feigning ignorance of what Jack had really meant. 

“Before you go head off, tell me, Ianto – is there any way of communicating from the isolated archive? Because your comm units won’t work once you get in there, will they?”

“You’re right – that’s why there is in fact an old-fashioned telephone line installed – you know, one with wires.”

“Not tin cans and bits of string then?” snarked Owen.

“Piss off,” muttered Ianto as he grabbed two torches from a drawer in the desk and then glanced towards the doorway at the end of the corridor. “Tosh, once we go through there, you should lock yourself into this anteroom, that way you’ll be more secure. Don’t let anyone in unless you can verify that it’s us or Jack.” 

“Got it, I’m not stupid you know. I got caught out once, never again.”

“I know, just be safe, please? If you don’t hear anything from us in twenty minutes, then call Jack, but not before.”

Ianto squeezed her shoulder quickly and then headed off, intent on finding their prey as soon as possible. He was torn – part of him wanted to hear Jack’s voice in command mode, reassuring and filling him with confidence in the way only he could. But he didn’t want him worrying yet, leaving behind his own quarry to rush to his aid. His hand was cupped over his ear hovering over his comm, tempted, yet resisting with all his might. There was too much at stake and he couldn’t afford to distract Jack, not now. As he grappled with his indecision and doubts he totally missed the brief, yet tender kiss that Owen gave Tosh.

“OK then, which way is it?” asked Owen, frowning as he took in the anguished look on Ianto’s face.

“Down here … through the doorway at the end on the left.” 

Once through the doorway Owen was surprised to find himself in a rough-hewn tunnel, a contrast to the concrete and breeze-block passageway on the other side of the door. He smiled as he heard that door be bolted shut behind them. Looking at Ianto, Owen was surprised to see that the air was cold enough for his breath to form misty clouds. He followed as Ianto turned to lead the way down as the floor sloped away from them as if cut directly into the bedrock. Steps cut into stone confirmed that it was indeed leading into the depths of the base.

They’d been walking for a few minutes when the lights started to flicker ominously before going out completely.

“Do they always do that?” Owen asked, switching on his torch and shining it in Ianto’s face.

“Dodgy electrics. Told Jack they needed replacing,” explained Ianto, shrugging as he turned on his own torch and halted Owen with a hand to his chest. “There’s battery-powered back-up lighting, there’s an access point for that not much further along. Hang on, I know where it is, I’ll go ahead and put it on.”

Before Owen could suggest that they both go forward, Ianto was gone. He moved off into the darkness, shining the beam of light at the side wall until he reached what looked like a fuse box set into a small recess. Holding the slim pencil torch between his teeth he opened the cover and went to pull a lever down to connect the emergency power supply to the overhead lights. 

From where he was standing, Owen saw the darting beam of Ianto’s torch bouncing off the wall, followed by a retina-burning, blue-white flash and a scream of anguish.


	33. Chapter 33

The hammering on the door behind her startled Tosh. She’d been keeping an ear open for the other door, in case Owen or Ianto had to get back to safety fast. Sounds at the other door could be friend or foe and there was no way she was disregarding Ianto’s strict instructions. Tapping her ear to activate her comm unit she cursed when all she got was interference. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her that John Hart and Jack’s brother would have had the technology to block their communications, after all they’d been able to break out of the cells and manipulate the security cameras to hide their escape. It dawned on her that they should have had the sense to check that they could actually get in touch with each other once separated, but they’d been in too much of a hurry. She could hardly blame Gwen or Ianto, they’d both been effectively out of active service for over half a year. Jack was dealing with the aftermath of traumatic revelations, not to mention having died at least once and she’d been shot. That left Owen, and he’d been so busy on the medical front, she couldn’t hold him responsible for poor observation of standard protocols. She felt that she was to blame. Grabbing her gun in one hand and clutching her side with the other, Tosh made her way to the door in silence, not wanting to give herself away until she knew who was on the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen grabbed hold of Jack’s arm and used her entire body weight to drag him away from the door, stopping his attempt to beat it down with his bare hands. 

“Jack, stop it!” she hissed. “If they’re in trouble and Gray’s in there with them, you’ve just announced our presence and made things ten times worse! Don’t you ever do stealthy?”

Jack shook his arm out of Gwen’s fierce grip and scowled at her. He also spared Rhys a quick glare to make sure he kept out of his way, having seen him consider intervening on his wife’s behalf.

“Gray’s not going to be on the other side of this door - not according to John -”

“And you trust him, do you?” Gwen’s wide eyes told Jack all he’d ever need to know about her faith in the word of John Hart. “You trust him with the safety of Ianto, Tosh and Owen?”

“Damn it, Gwen, yes I do right now, because I don’t have much other choice. What he said about Gray’s intentions makes perfect sense-”

“To a terminally twisted psychopath maybe-”

“And now she gets it!” John Hart began to clap his hands together slowly. “That’s exactly what Gray is, darlin’ – he doesn’t give a toss about anything except causing his brother as much pain and grief as possible, no matter what it costs. To him or to any of your chums. Or this city for that matter. He’s so far beyond caring, he wouldn’t recognise it if it stuck its tongue down his throat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pressing her ear up close to the door, Tosh couldn’t make out the words, but there were several voices, one shrill - probably Gwen and at least two deeper, male voices, arguing from the sound of things. She decided to take a risk and release the locking mechanism, but kept her gun held in front of her, just in case.

As the door suddenly clicked and swung open, John staggered through first as he’d been idly leaning against the door. As he quickly regained his footing, he found the barrel of Tosh’s semiautomatic pressed against his forehead.

“You bastard – what have you done now?” 

“Not again.” John Hart rolled his eyes. “Why do you all blame me?”

Jack had pushed past John and swung his Webley from side to side, looking for danger.

“Tosh, are you OK?” He looked back to her, frowning in confusion. “Where are Ianto and Owen?”

“Oh shit,” swore Tosh, as she realised what it meant if John Hart was with Jack. “If you found him, then that means -”

“Tosh? What is it? Where have they gone?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ianto? Ianto! You OK?” 

Owen really hoped that he didn’t need to perform CPR, he could get Ianto’s heart going again probably, but breathing could be trickier, as he’d realised at the collector’s mansion not so long ago. 

“For fuck’s sake, answer me! I’m not telling Jack I let you get killed, he’ll throw me in a cell with Janet!”

A groan from the floor gave Owen some measure of relief. A groan meant that the patient was breathing for himself, always a good sign. He shone his torch across Ianto’s crumpled body, following the shuddering outline, trying to assess his injuries.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” swore Ianto, having progressed from incoherent mumblings to monosyllabic expressions of the fact that something hurt like hell.

“That’s helpful – what hurts?” Owen crouched down next to Ianto and shone his torch into his face. He could hear that the Ianto was breathing fast and could see that he biting his lower lip.

“Hand – burnt I think. Fuck.” Ianto was cradling his right hand in his left, trying hard to blink back the tears that had sprung to his eyes.

“Bloody hell, show me what you’ve done this time.”

“I would if I could see where you are. Owen? Where are you?”

“Right here, next to you, you daft git. Come here – let’s see that hand – hold it out.”

Ianto tentatively held out the injured hand and felt Owen gently take it in his own cold hands.

“Can’t see a thing – ” Ianto blinked rapidly, as jagged gashes of incandescence filled his field of vision.

“That would be because of the flash of light – electrical discharge probably. Reckon you got a nasty shock there.”

“Is that your professional opinion based on the big flash of blue sparks?”

“Oi! You’re the one who said it was a connection to a battery. But that shouldn’t have given you a shock.” 

“That junction box also contains the cabling for the mains lighting – take a look will you? I still can’t see properly.”

“Hang on.” Owen cautiously peered into the junction box, he could see the plastic housing blackened in places and some of the insulation melted. “The narrow-gauge wiring for the emergency lighting is cut through, recently by the looks of it, and someone’s been messing about with the mains cable. There are some exposed wires in here as well, anyone sticking their hand in to switch on the back up lights would end up touching it and then- ”

“Let me guess… big sparks and pain. Lots of pain.”

“You’re still talking, so it can’t have been that bad. You got lucky – just superficial burns to your fingers and the palm of your hand. I can’t do anything to treat them until we go back up top, so come on, get off your arse and let’s get back to Tosh.”

As he pushed himself off the floor, Owen frowned as he went over in his head the trap that had been set up – designed to knock out or disable yet another member of Torchwood. The power to the lights had been knocked out, in anticipation that the back up would be put on and then whoever went to the switch box, in the dark, would make contact with the bare wire inside, sustaining a substantial electric shock. It seemed that whoever was doing this, Gray or Hart, was gradually trying to pick them off one at a time. He really hoped that Tosh was alright.

“No – we’ve got this far, let’s see what he wants.” Ianto leant on the wall as he got unsteadily to his feet. “Seems rude to ignore such an insistent invitation.”

“Bloody hell, you’re getting worse than him,” Owen stared at Ianto in disbelief. “Just bear in mind that while reckless disregard for personal safety appears to be a sexually transmitted condition, immortality isn’t.”

“If you want to turn back, be my guest. But I’m not giving up now.” Ianto picked up his torch that he’d dropped when he’d screamed out in shock. Holding it gingerly in his injured hand, he wondered if he could still shoot accurately left-handed. Although it would be prudent to make a strategic withdrawal, there was something he needed to deal with, before Jack caught up with them. 

“Great – all we’re missing now is a bloody great ball of rock rolling down the tunnel and crushing us.” Owen couldn’t help but start to think along the lines of Indiana Jones. As long as there were no spiders. He hated spiders. 

“Should I be worried that you’re sounding more pessimistic than I usually do?”

“It’s the fact that you’re so willing to put your life on the line that’s scaring the shit out of me.” 

Owen wondered if the absence of Ianto’s trademark caution was symptomatic of whatever he’d been through when he’d been stuck in the past. He just hoped he’d get the chance to discuss this with Jack. It wasn’t healthy.

“You still got white spots in front of your eyes? Can you see me?”

“Yep – but please stop doing that Blair Witch thing with the torch, it makes you look even more like a zombie than usual.”

“Thanks, I’d almost forgot I was dead, but at least I’m a clean-shaven corpse.” Owen picked up on Ianto’s diversion into insult territory to avoid dealing with anything bordering the real danger they were in. “How close are we to this storage room then?”

“The first door on the left past the junction box.”

“You ready?”

“Have to be.”

“I should contact Tosh, she’ll be getting worried…” Owen tapped his comm unit to no avail. “Ianto, can you get through to Tosh? All I’m getting is background hissing.”

Ianto frowned as he came to the same conclusion as Owen.

“Nothing. Looks like the web’s getting tighter. Still with me?”

“You’d go on, even if I didn’t, wouldn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Thought so. Let’s do it then.”

Ianto pushed open the door that had been left ajar in anticipation of their arrival. As soon as they entered the room, it clanged shut behind them.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK - this is the real chapter 34 - I accidentally posted chapter 35 last weekend! Please read this one - it's important. 
> 
> I'll post Chapter 35 tomorrow and then chapter 36 the day after.
> 
> Sorry!
> 
> ***********************************

“BM4TM-10? You sure?” Jack asked urgently for confirmation. 

“Yes – that’s what the system indicated.” Tosh stated, pointing at the archives work station as if that would back her up.

“What does that mean?” probed Gwen.

“It’s the designation of a secure storage area, shielded from external signals and all forms of radiation,” Jack snapped. He could have recited a long list of specifications, but there wasn’t the time for that.

“What’s in there?” demanded Gwen, suspecting that Jack was keeping things from her. His lack of instant response caused her to glance across to Tosh and raise her eyebrows, seeking an immediate explanation.

“Ianto told us it’s the Torchwood store for artefacts with particular energy signatures that fall through the rift. There’s more to it than that isn’t there, Jack?” asked Tosh, almost fearing the truth. “Ianto gave the impression he didn’t know much about them, he suggested that they were items that even you didn’t recognise.”

“Did he?” Jack was frowning now. Ianto knew exactly what was stored down there; Jack had told him when he’d taken over the cataloguing of the archives. Jack started to wonder what the hell Ianto was playing at.

“What’s in there, Jack?” insisted Gwen, with a glare that could have pierced reinforced concrete.

“Good question. Come on – time to open up and tell them the truth.” John Hart stood behind the two women, shamelessly using them as a human shield as he threw his latest taunt at Jack. “What could your little brother possibly want to get his claws into, besides Eye Candy of course?”

“I swear, you’d better mean what you said about helping me.” Jack shook his head and then looked Gwen in the face. “Remember when this bastard had us searching Cardiff for radiation cluster bombs?”

“Yes, hard to forget that night – but what has that got to with – oh no!”

“Yeah – the canisters he got us looking for were similar to the real thing, that’s how he fooled me to begin with. They can’t be defused or disarmed using 21st century technology, or anything else we’ve here. Some have come through the rift and I had them all secured in a lead lined crypt, waiting for the right century to come along so I could render them safe.”

“As an ignorant civilian here, tell me if I’m understanding this right, will you?” Rhys spoke up, seeing as how both Gwen’s and Tosh’s mouths were wide open. “You’re saying that you’ve got a stash of nuclear weapons tucked away under Cardiff Bay and they’re now in the hands of someone who makes this piece of shit look like a bloody choir boy?”

“Got in one, you’re not as stupid as you look.” John grinned, snapping his fingers and pointing with both hands at Rhys. The grin slipped away to be replaced by a contrite look as he caught sight of the expression on Jack’s face. 

“Oh my God, Jack. He could destroy the whole of Cardiff, South Wales even!” Gwen looked horrified. “What are we going to do? Ianto and Owen are down there –”

That was all it took to galvanise Jack into action once more. He spun round as Tosh returned to the computer.

“Still no luck with comms or visual, Tosh?”

“No. But I think thermal imaging is still functional -”

“Come on, come on-” Jack hovered behind Tosh willing her to locate the other two men before it was too late.

“I’ve got one heat signal in the corridor – that must be Ianto, seeing as Owen doesn’t actually radiate any heat these days…” 

“Why isn’t he moving?” Jack interrupted Tosh, stabbing a finger at the small spot of light that was stationary towards the end of the tunnel.

“Maybe they stopped to check something? They aren’t far from the storage room now.”

The red dot on the screen slowly moved in a random pattern and then a few moments later disappeared.

“Ianto! Don’t go in there!” Jack yelled at the fuzzy red spot on the screen and then slammed his fist against the desk, causing anything not screwed in place to scatter and fall to the ground. “That damn idiot, what does he think he’s doing?”

“What happened, Jack? What has he done?” Gwen dared to ask as she saw Jack press his lips tightly together, the way he did when severely pissed off.

“He just walked into a trap, one containing radioactive material and unstable detonation devices-”

“You talking about your dear brother?” asked John Hart with a sneer.

“Don’t you dare,” snarled Jack as he grabbed hold of the tattered red jacket and spat the words in the other man’s face. “This is all your damn fault.”

“Jack – we don’t have time for this!” yelled Gwen. “By all means beat the shit out of him when we’re done, but for now we need to get to Ianto and Owen, and stop whatever it is that Gray is planning to do.” 

Gwen took temporary command and verbally dragged Jack out of his angry confrontation with Hart. 

“Come on, Jack, we need you to take charge now.”

Gwen and Tosh stood either side of Jack, coaxing him to move away from John Hart. They needed him to channel his fury into decisive action, the way only Jack could.

“Right, Gwen – I need you to take Rhys and get the hell out of here, alert emergency services and get the whole area evacuated. Tosh - put the lower levels of the Hub into a Code Red lock down, make sure that containment barriers are up to prevent any explosions from damaging the Bay area or breaching the sea wall. Then get the hell out of here and join Gwen and Rhys. I need you out of harm’s way.”

“What are you going to do?” Gwen asked, not missing the way that Jack had grabbed hold of Hart’s arm so he couldn’t run.

“Dealing with this once and for all. And as this bastard’s responsible for this, he’s coming along with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh this is excellent! It wouldn’t have mattered who found me, but … you, this is so much better than I could have hoped.”

Gray was sitting on a box in the centre of the room, a sword resting on his lap. His quilted jacket discoloured with dried blood stains, the sleeve hanging loose on the side where his shoulder was bound tightly with bandages. On the box next to him lay an assorted collection of metallic, cylindrical containers.

“You must be Jack’s little brother,” said Ianto, shaking his head slowly. “I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it isn’t.”

Ianto moved further into the room, holding out his uninjured hand in a gesture for Owen to stay close to the door. His stride was purposeful and Owen noticed that he didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to see that the spider at the centre of the web was Jack’s brother and not John Hart.

“Ianto – you knew it would be him, didn’t you? That’s why you insisted that you got to search the archives.”

“Yep – John Hart wouldn’t have had the patience for this game. What’s more, he never seemed to be the self-destructive type to me. Given the choice of him either causing mayhem in the cell block or working out what he could find in the archives - it was a no-brainer really.”

Owen paused as he took in this new information. Ianto had known all along that they were on the track of Gray. It had been no coincidence that Ianto had paired himself up with the one member of the team least likely to be hurt, apart from Jack. He’d also made damn sure that Tosh was left in a safe location first. Owen wondered why Ianto wanted to take on this demented bastard preferentially to Jack’s ex. 

“You’re right about John,” stated Gray, staring at Ianto in a predatory manner. “He’s got a short attention span - he’s easily bored.” 

Gray eyed Ianto carefully, appraising strengths and weaknesses from the way he held himself. His assessment informed him that his opponent was well built, the rolled-up shirt sleeves revealing strong arm muscles and scars from previous fights. Gray noted that Ianto was holding his right hand protectively, tucked inside the open waistcoat, maybe ready to grasp a weapon, but there was barely disguised pain in his eyes. Gray sensed that he was hurting, probably injured. 

“Now, you’re different, not like Hart or my brother. Why are you here and not him?”

“You’ve threatened and hurt people I care about. You’ve tried to destroy my home. And you’ve killed someone who means everything to me - even if he doesn’t stay dead, you’ve wounded him in ways I’ve never witnessed before.” 

Ianto had seen just how tormented Jack had been by the actions of Gray and it had helped him make his mind up on how to make amends. 

“You’ve made your point, Gray. You’ve got our attention. Now it’s time to grow up and act your age.”

Owen flinched, expecting Gray to lash out with the sharp steel blade that trembled as he shook with suppressed anger. Grasping the hilt of the sword, Gray pointed it at Ianto, who stood still, not moving a muscle. He really hoped Ianto knew what he was doing.

“You’re very pretty you know.” Gray licked his lips as he looked Ianto up and down, tracing the path of his eyes with the tip of the sword. “I can see why my brother likes playing with you. Does he like it rough? I bet he -”

“This really isn’t how I imagined meeting the family would go,” Ianto sighed as he rubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to rise to the bait. He rested his left hand on his hip, reaching back with his thumb to feel for the gun tucked in the belt of his jeans. “So much for plans on buying you ice cream and taking you to see the latest exhibit at the Red Dragon Centre. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of you just apologising to your big brother and making friends?”

“None.”

“Thought not. Pity really.” Ianto shook his head wearily. “Might have been fun, you know, we could’ve gone out for a pint maybe, got to know each other better. You could’ve told me all the embarrassing stories about Jack when he was a kid-”

“Oh, I can still do that. You’ll really love the one where he was meant to look after me and let me go. Especially the part where he ran away and left me behind to be captured by sadistic aliens –”

“He was a kid! Bloody hell!” Ianto had heard Jack’s side of this story and if anything, he blamed himself more than Gray did. “He told me all about it. He’s been carrying the guilt around with him all his damn life, which has been a bloody long time. A better man than you would have forgiven him-”

“Would you?”

“Yes, a thousand times, and then a thousand more,” Ianto spoke the words fervently and without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Why? What the hell could possess you to do that?”

“Because he’s forgiven me.” Ianto saw the look of uncertainty creep across Gray’s face and made an educated guess. “He forgave you as well, didn’t he?”

“His words mean nothing to me,” spat Gray. “Neither do yours.”

Owen leaned against the steel door and observed Ianto take on Gray in a verbal sparring match. He was doing a good job so far, but there was still an air of fearlessness about him that bothered Owen. It was as if he had nothing to lose, like he would go as far as necessary to stop Gray. Then it dawned on him – Ianto was doing this for Jack, sparing him from having to use lethal force to prevent his own flesh and blood from committing mass murder, saving him from having that on his conscience for eternity. The stupid idiot was doing this for Jack.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously posted as chapter 34, but is really 35!

“Ianto…” hissed Owen urgently, sensing the imminent danger that always accompanied pushing an unstable psychopath nearer the edge. 

Gray had slid off the top of the box that he’d been perched on and was slowly advancing on Ianto, who was steadily moving further into the room, increasing the distance between himself and an escape route. 

Owen watched nervously as the two men circled one another. Gray looked more than ready to slice Ianto in two, his hand flexing on the hilt of the sword, as if he was itching to strike out. He waited until Gray had his back to him and then stealthily took hold of his handgun and slowly began to raise it into position, ready to get in a shot before Gray could launch an attack on Ianto. Although the Welshman had apparently lost all sense of self preservation, Owen’s was still fully functional and mindful of the requirement to keep Ianto alive for his own continued well-being.

Releasing the safety catch gently proved to be impossible and the unmistakable sound was enough to earn him Gray’s immediate attention. Before Owen knew what was happening, the gun had been dashed from his hand and the pointed end of a very sharp looking sword was pressed hard into the space between his ribs, just above where his heart resolutely refused to beat. A deep gash gaped open on the back of his hand, gruesomely exposing bones and tendons that gleamed white in the bloodless flesh. Gray scowled as he lifted the tip of the blade until it caressed Owen’s cheek.

“What the fuck are you? My brother really knows how to pick a team, doesn’t he? Sit down, over there, against the wall! Hands on your head and don’t move a muscle.” Gray held his sword in Owen’s face as he called out to Ianto: “Same goes for you. I doubt if I can kill this bastard, but I can mess with his face if you make another move.”

Ianto froze in position, his hand on his belt, frustrated as he’d been ready to take out Gray whilst his attention was diverted.

“Drop the gun and kick it over to the door. Quick – before I decide to rearrange his face, a mouth like that really doesn’t need making any wider.”

Owen swore and watched on helplessly as Ianto took his gun from his belt between thumb and finger, and let it fall to the ground. 

“Kick it to the door and then walk across to the far side of the room, hands above your head.” Gray stooped down and picked up Owen’s handgun, pocketing it without letting his sword waver once.

Ianto followed Gray’s instructions, not wanting to give him an excuse to inflict any further damage to Owen that wouldn’t mend. He cursed himself for allowing the doctor to follow him into the room, he should have ensured he got away. He’d done his best to make sure the others were out of harm’s way; it was going to be up to Owen to keep himself in one piece.

“You really shouldn’t have pissed me off, frog-face. I was going to spend time getting to know my brother’s boyfriend –now I’m not sure I can be bothered.”

“You really don’t know when to give up do you?” Owen watched anxiously as Gray returned his attention to Ianto. He wondered how long it would take for Jack to figure out what Ianto was up to and come haring down to the vaults, all guns blazing. Not long, he hoped. 

“Owen, remember what you said before about cans and bits of string?” Ianto asked Owen, turning away from Gray as if bored by him. 

“What the hell are you on about?” muttered Owen, racking his brain trying to figure out what Ianto was referring to. It then dawned on him.

“Just saying, that’s all,” replied Ianto with a shrug. “Right?” 

“If those are your final words, they suck.” But a quick glance to his right allowed Owen to spot the telephone cable along the bottom of the wall, leading to an old- fashioned telephone, complete with a circular dial. 

“How about ‘I know how pteranodon shit got into your porn collection’?” asked Ianto with a broad grin. “Better?”

“Infinitely better – I’ll pass them onto the others for posterity. And for what it’s worth, I knew you had something to do with that shit.”

Gray was bemused by the conversation between the two men. They were apparently oblivious to the fact that neither of them would be leaving this chamber. He moved over to the upturned box and picked up one of the canisters, waved it in Ianto’s face and then set it upright on the flat surface.

“I take it you know exactly what that is and what it can do?” taunted Gray, as he slowly walked around Ianto until he was stood behind him. 

Placing the blade of his sword against Ianto’s throat, Gray ran his fingers through the long curls until he had enough hair in his hand to grip hold of and he pulled hard, tugging Ianto’s head back. 

“Answer me!” 

It was probably fortunate that Gray couldn’t see the expression on Ianto’s face, or the way he rolled his eyes. Despite the blade at his throat, he didn’t really consider Jack’s brother to be a serious threat, he’d fought alongside men he truly had feared when Gwen had thought he’d gone to collect firewood.

“You know you really shouldn’t be playing with those. Someone could get hurt.” 

“I’m counting on it.” Gray pushed Ianto down to his knees vindictively, taking pleasure in the sound of bone colliding with concrete.

Gray then grinned to himself as he made a show of opening a small hatch on the side of one of the devices and pressed a small purple button that initiated a loud bleeping sound.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? That’s dangerous!” 

Ianto leapt to his feet, moving quickly towards the canister, intent on grabbing hold of it and resetting the trigger. Jack had shown him once how the devices could be neutralised should they be accidentally set off by an unsuspecting member of the public if found. There was no way of permanently disarming them, but the countdown could be indefinitely suspended if the button was reset.

Unfortunately, Gray had no intention of letting Ianto anywhere near the radiation cluster bomb. He swung his sword in a wide arc that intersected Ianto’s approach, the tip of the blade slicing through the fabric of waist coat and shirt, leaving a thin red line of blood droplets across Ianto’s exposed chest. 

“I see showing off runs in the family then.” Ianto smiled with his lips tightly pressed together. If he’d had any doubts about the sharpness of that blade after it had bit into Owen’s hand, they were thoroughly dispelled. 

“Fancy your chances? Be my guest. It’ll be a fun way to pass the time waiting for detonation – slicing you into shreds. See how long you last before bleeding to death.”

Ianto looked to one side of Gray and wondered if he could make a grab for the broom that was propped up in the back corner, before he was cut down. The broom had been in that corner since the time he’d used it to clear away the cobwebs festooned over the steel cabinets when Jack had first introduced him to this facility and then he’d forgotten about it. 

Backing away towards the corner as if afraid of Gray, Ianto reached behind and quickly snatched up the broom. He spun it around in his hands, ignoring the stinging sensation of fresh blisters being scraped raw on his right palm. He took firm hold of the handle as if it was a quarterstaff, one hand in the centre and the other nearer the brush end. Advancing on Gray he pushed the stout wooden pole directly into his chest forcing him to back away from the armed explosive device. Swinging the handle around he slapped Gray on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. Gray recovered quickly and launched an all-out attack on Ianto, frustrated as his wild slices were effectively parried by Ianto wielding nothing more than a broom.

Ianto kept pushing Gray further and further away from the makeshift bench, needing him well out of the way. He needed to contain him whilst Owen dealt with the cluster bombs.

“Owen – the off switch is the red one – got it?” Ianto called out whilst ducking quickly to avoid losing his head as Gray swung his sword once more with deadly intent. 

Swallowing hard, Ianto countered another blow and watched with dismay as rough splinters of wood were hacked from his makeshift weapon. He had to distract Gray long enough for Owen to make safe all of the bombs arranged on the tops of the cabinets spread out around the room.

“What is it about you?” demanded Gray. “What have you got that my brother is so besotted with?”

“Oh, let’s think – it’s been a while since I tried to kill him, on purpose that is … I don’t go around setting off explosives and releasing fucking weevils-”

“Weevils? Oh those creatures with all the teeth! I was hoping to see one of them in action, ripping the throat out of one of your friends maybe -” 

As Gray allowed himself the indulgence of laughing at the expression of distaste on Ianto’s face, he dropped his guard enough for Ianto to succeed in smashing the broom handle once more against the side of his head with enough force to knock him senseless. As Gray dropped to the ground, a thin trickle of blood creeping down his face, Ianto turned and yelled at Owen:

“Re-set the canister that’s flashing, the red button three times and then the purple one once.” As Ianto shouted out commands, he picked up Gray’s sword from the ground and looked anxiously from left to right seeking his firearm. “When you’ve done that, get the rest into one of those lockers and – fuck!”

Gray wasn’t as concussed as Ianto thought and attacked him from behind, swinging out his feet to collide painfully with the back of Ianto’s legs, knocking him to the floor and then springing up to kick him viciously in the back. A sharp pain emanated from the vertebrae fractured as a consequence of Gray’s last foray with explosive devices. The pain flared up Ianto’s spine, intense enough to have him gasping for breath as tears stung his eyes.

“Ianto!” 

“Stay where you are Owen –” Ianto gasped as he reached out under the bench to get a fingertip to the gun he could see lying there. “You deal with those fucking bombs, leave me to deal with this spoilt brat.”

As soon as Ianto had grasped his gun he felt his legs being grabbed as he was inelegantly rolled onto his back. He sighed with annoyance as he looked up to see Gray straddling his waist, the sword once again pressed to his throat. Ianto gritted his teeth and lifted his gun, aiming shakily at Gray’s head – he figured he’d just have time to squeeze the trigger.

Owen looked from one man to the other – it was a standoff, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.

“You can’t do it – I can see it in your eyes – you’re not a killer,” declared Gray as he slid down Ianto’s body, pressing closer to him, pupils dilated, nostrils flared. Adrenaline coursing through his veins made the pain from his shoulder wound a focal point rather than a distraction.

“You’d be surprised – and even if I wasn’t, I’d make an exception for you.”

Ianto kept to himself the thought that if Jack had to kill his brother it would condemn his soul to an eternity of self-hatred and grief. He’d do whatever it took to spare him that.

“If you shoot me, he’ll never be able to look at you again – you do know that don’t you?”

“It had occurred to me – but that’s a price I’m willing to pay. He still loves you – do you have any idea what that means? What Jack’s unfailing love is worth? You really are a selfish little shit –”

“You’d really do it, wouldn’t you?” Gray faltered over the thought that Ianto would willingly sacrifice everything for Jack.

“What?” demanded Ianto, incredulously. “Now you don’t want to die?”

“Damn you – I’m not dying just to allow you a selfless gesture to show my brother how much you fucking love him – that was never on the table.” Gray knocked the gun from Ianto’s hand with the fist he had wrapped about the hilt of the sword. 

Ianto found his head buzzing, the sight of the blade at his throat a reminder of a head being severed in the Iron Age and a blood-stained cleaver in a village hall in the Brecon Beacons. The stuff of nightmares threatened to overwhelm him before he could carry through with his plan. Bringing up his knees sharply, he winded Gray who dropped his weapon in shock. Rolling to one side, Ianto snatched up the gun from the floor and silently bade farewell to his relationship with Jack, knowing that the second he pulled the trigger, it would be irredeemably damaged. There was a good chance he’d be retconned and dumped miles from civilisation. Ironically, he now knew he’d be able to survive if that happened. Better that than being aware of Jack’s hatred for the rest of his natural life.

“Jack never once stopped loving you!” Ianto yelled angrily. “I want you to know that before you die.” 

Ianto blinked rapidly to clear his vision, tears had welled up blurring his sight. Gripping hold of the gun tightly he lifted it once more, aiming to kill, not wound.

“I’m sorry, Eye Candy, but I can’t let you do that.”

A shot rang out, followed by a sickening thud as a body hit the ground and then there was silence.


	36. Chapter 36

Standing in the doorway Jack looked on. He felt Numb. He’d heard what Ianto had said and was having trouble processing the depth of emotion and despair behind the words. There was a body on the floor, a bullet hole in its forehead, the skin torn into a grotesque star shape by the impact. He knew without looking that the exit wound would be a lot messier. The numbness pervaded his limbs and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk without collapsing. Indeed, he felt his legs give way briefly before he summoned the energy to look away from the corpse to the other occupants of the room. Owen was shaking his head slowly, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t need to say there was no need to check for a pulse, it had obviously been a lethal shot. 

Swallowing hard, John Hart backed away from Jack, readily surrendering the gun to Owen. John’s face would have been totally colourless were it not for the vivid cuts and bruises imparted by the Torchwood team during the course of the preceding day. Unlike Owen, he was prepared to let Jack’s eyes bore into his soul, ready to accept whatever condemnation he felt he deserved.

“I’m sorry…” John was shocked to realise that although he had no regrets about taking the kill shot, he felt genuine remorse for the anguish it caused Jack. There really was a first for everything it would seem. 

Jack just bit his lower lip and shook his head abruptly, not wanting to hear anything John Hart had to say.

“Don’t. Just…” Jack shook his head as he slowly sunk to his knees next to the body of one he knew he’d never stop loving.

Finally, Jack forced himself to focus on other person on the floor opposite him, red-rimmed eyes meeting his across the bleeding corpse that lay between them. Unlike John, he stayed silent. He understood Jack better. There was too much to be said, too many questions to be asked, or explanations demanded – either way there would come a time for words. But not there and not then. 

Despite the fact that this was an outcome he’d feared from the offset, the inexorable progression towards this moment had haunted Jack since the previous day. He’d held on to the hope that he could resolve it, without loss of life. Even as he’d watched Ianto leave his bed that morning, he’d known that this collision between his past and present could only end tragically. 

He was so damn young, had suffered so much in such a few short years, thought Jack. He gently gathered the body up into his arms in a one-sided embrace. 

He wondered if he’d ever realised just how much Jack loved him. The skin was still warm to the touch as Jack traced his thumb gently across the cheek. _Why him? Why did life have to be so fucking unfair?_

“Ianto?” his voice broke on the name of his lover.

“What do you need, Jack?”

Ianto was kneeling on the floor, deliberately hunched over in such a way that Jack couldn’t see the state of either his shirt or his chest. The cut was by no means life threatening, although a few centimetres deeper and it could have been. However, at that moment, Jack was his priority and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. However much it may hurt.

“Please, just get out, all of you … just leave me … need… just leave.” The words were forced out past the sobs that caught in Jack’s throat. He didn’t look at any of them, his attention solely focused on Gray. He hoped that Ianto would understand and he didn’t care what the others thought. Clutching the lifeless figure that seemed so young and so small, now it was no longer fuelled by loathing and hatred, Jack pressed his face into the filthy jacket and rocked his little brother in his arms. 

Owen gently took Ianto's arm. Having observed how exhausted he was now that he was no longer running on adrenaline, Owen doubted that he’d be able to stand unassisted. He braced himself as Ianto allowed him to bear some of his weight, all too aware of the other burdens he would insist on carrying unaided, including Jack’s given half the chance.

“Oi – arsehole, give me a hand will you?” Owen gruffly muttered in John Hart’s direction. Despite being reluctantly grateful to Jack’s ex for saving Ianto direct responsibility for Gray’s death, he couldn’t forget that it was all Hart’s fault in the first place. 

Ianto barely noticed John Hart take his other arm and hoist him off the floor as the two men guided him out of the storage room. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jack, who lay curled up and broken around his brother’s body. It made no difference whether it had been him or John Hart who’d pulled the trigger; he doubted if Jack would be able to forgive anyone connected with the death of the only surviving member of his family. 

“Gwen? Tosh – they OK?” muttered Ianto, looking around outside the door for the others. 

“Jack sent the rest of the gang out to evacuate the vicinity, in case 'you-know-who' decided to press the button.” John tilted his head in the direction of Gray as he helped Ianto through the heavy blast door and out into the cold, dark corridor. “He also got little Toshiko to lock us all in down here, just in case-”

“Need to let them know-” Ianto couldn’t finish his sentence, but Owen’s sympathetic look saved him the trouble.

“Let me do that, Ianto – why don’t you sit down here for a bit, you look like shit. Hang on, I’ll fetch that phone.” Owen stepped back into the storage room long enough to tug at the antiquated cabling and drag the old-fashioned phone out through the open doorway. 

“What about Jack?” Ianto looked toward the door from his position slumped down against the wall of the corridor, becoming increasingly concerned about the wisdom of leaving Jack alone with his grief. 

“He’ll be fine, Eye Candy.” John attempted a reassuring smile that had the opposite effect on Ianto.

“No, he won’t.” Ianto bashed his head back against the cold wall he was leaning against. Although he probably didn’t know a great deal about the man who called himself Jack Harkness, he knew when he’d reached his emotional breaking point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owen dialled Tosh’s mobile number and hoped for the best. Relieved to get through, he gave her a hastily summarised version of what had happened, explained that John killed Gray and Jack had gone into one of his quiet meltdowns. He then demanded that she hurry up and reverse the lockdown. Owen wasn’t keen on spending any more time than he had to in a claustrophobic corridor with two men who were only refraining from killing each other out of respect for Jack’s grief. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for Jack to progress to the anger phase of grief and if vengeance was on the cards, Owen wanted to be as far away as possible when it was meted out. For now, he’d have to try to make small talk with Gray’s executioner. 

“So, how come you and Jack got down here so fast if we’re locked in?” Owen asked John quietly. 

“Wrist band – teleported to the last registered signal from Eye Candy’s hot body-” John dared smirk in Ianto’s direction, thinking maybe some humour would break the ice and get rid of some tension. Unfortunately, it only had the opposite effect of lowering the temperature by several degrees, Ianto giving him a glare that could have frozen Cardiff Bay. “Thermal imaging – that’s what I meant, people. Really. Anyway, we teleported to this point … you know the rest.”

“How long were you there?” Ianto was resting his head on his knees and didn’t look up as he asked the question that was bothering him. He needed to know what Jack had witnessed.

“We saw you and Gray getting close and personal if that’s what you’re wondering. Oh, yeah and he heard what you said to Gray.”

“Fuck.” Ianto shut his eyes and bashed his head yet again on the wall. 

“What’s up? Wishing I’d shot you instead of the kid?”

“It wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d shot both of us and teleported the hell out of here.”

“Couldn’t do that … for a start Jack’s the one with the working wrist band –”

“He’s what?” interrupted Owen, no longer bothering to keep his voice down. The sight he’d glimpsed of Jack fiddling with something under his sleeve whilst cradling Gray with one arm now took on a greater significance. 

“Oh no!” Ianto shouted as he scrambled back to his feet and led the others back into the room where they’d left Jack.

Pushing open the heavy metal door, they were just in time to see a shimmering golden light expand and then collapse about the occupants of the room who disappeared as it blinked out of existence.


	37. Chapter 37

“Shit!” Ianto was furious. Time and time again Jack did this, disappear rather than asking for help or support from those around him. He slammed his hand into the door, his anger making him forget the state it was in until the pain from the abused flesh tore a scream from his throat. 

Owen thought better of offering medical assistance, he was just as pissed off as Ianto and sympathised with his frustration.

“Fucking brilliant. We’re locked down here and he’s buggered off to fuck knows where! Bollocks.” 

“I don’t suppose you lot have got a computer terminal anywhere down here?” John Hart called out urgently.

“Why?” Ianto shook his head and wondered if it would make anything any worse than it already was if they just shot the bastard and got it over and done with.

“Because we could check for heat signatures, that’s why - like we did to find you. That way we can find out if he’s still in your base.” John spun on his heel and shoved his face in Ianto’s, seeking a confrontation, anything to break the tension. A scrap, that’s what he needed, he was sure he could goad Ianto into a fight, he looked like he wanted to kill somebody. “Of course, I wouldn’t put it past him to have completely lost it and left the fucking planet.” 

Ianto resisted the urge to add to the cuts and bruises littering Hart’s face, despite the provocation of those sharp cheekbones and smug grin. Instinct told him that it wouldn’t have been what Jack would have wanted. 

“Actually, that is a good idea.” Ianto frowned; worried that he was sensing logic in Hart’s suggestion. “But, unfortunately there aren’t any networked computers down here, too high a risk of accidentally triggering an explosion.” 

John swore and then took a moment to take in Ianto’s dishevelled appearance and catching sight of the blood stains on his shirt, felt obliged to pass comment:

“I shot Gray in the head, how come you’ve got blood all over your shirt … you bleeding?” 

“Just a bit.” Ianto rolled his eyes in exasperation as he glanced down at the front of his shirt. “It’s not serious-”

“Let me be the judge of that,” growled Owen. 

Owen quickly walked across from where he was standing close by in case he had to separate Ianto and Hart. He’d had every intention of letting Ianto beat Hart to a pulp if it made him feel better, but he would have intervened if it looked like Ianto was in danger of getting himself hurt. Batting Ianto’s hands out of the way he pulled apart the remaining buttons of the ripped shirt to check on the extent of the damage. He was relieved that the sword had missed the dressing on the wound acquired in the Iron Age. However, blood was still welling up in the thin cut that ran diagonally across the ribcage and the drying stains, on what had once been a white shirt, showed where the sliced flesh had bled more freely initially. Owen realised that Ianto had been deliberately hiding the injury, from him and, more significantly, from Jack. 

“You’ll live. I pumped you full of antibiotics yesterday, so it’s not likely to get infected. But we need to get that covered up soon, a gash like that will only get the girls worried.” 

In a rare display of diplomacy, Owen didn’t mention Jack.

“Says the man with the hand that could be on display at the Tate Modern,” responded Ianto, pointing meaningfully at the back of Owen’s hand where Gray had cut it wide open. The gaping wound looked like an exhibit from a medical museum.

“Gray’s handiwork I take it?” John Hart asked, shaking his head as if despairing of an unruly pet with violent tendencies. “Sadistic bastard, always was a terror with that fucking sword… still got the scars to show for it.” 

Before there was any suggestion of comparing scars, Ianto pulled the remnants of his shirt about his chest and attempted to tuck the loose ends into the front of his jeans. 

“Owen, did you get through to Tosh?”

“Yeah – she’s on her way to reverse the lockdown, so I guess we should make our way back?”

“Not just yet,” replied Ianto with a sigh. Despite an urge to hunt down the nearest computer and search for Jack, there were other matters to deal with. “We have to make sure all those devices are stabilised and locked away again.” 

Practical considerations always provided Ianto with a means to avoid dealing with problems he had no control over. Jack came under that category and the current circumstances forced Ianto to seek any distraction that came to hand. He daren’t consider where Jack had gone, or when for that matter. The suspicion that he wasn’t enough to help Jack get through this and that he’d decided to go elsewhere for help or comfort left him feeling even more bereft. 

The only silver lining to the massive dark cloud that reached from one horizon to the next was the fact that Jack wasn’t with his ex. At least not with this particular time traveller, which then led Ianto’s mind down another avenue of thought that pointed to one other person Jack would turn to. Someone who’d not played a role in the death of his brother. And if that’s who Jack had gone to, there was nothing he could do about it. 

John Hart and Owen both waited patiently as they watched Ianto scan the room slowly, his thoughts evidently miles from the issue of the numerous explosive devices set up like decorations about the storage facility.

“Right,” Ianto took a deep breath as he refocused on the job at hand. He pointed at Hart first. “You can make yourself useful and make a start on collecting those devices and bringing them here to me. I’ll make sure they’re as safe as possible and Owen, you can put them in the containers. OK?”

“You trusting him to help?” Owen stabbed a finger in John Hart’s general direction, wondering if he should’ve checked Ianto’s temperature.

“For some inexplicable reason, yes I am.” Ianto shrugged and sadly shook his head. “He’s stupid, but not suicidal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as she’d heard from Owen, Tosh had rushed off to speak to Gwen, who wasn’t answering her comm. She found her co-ordinating the evacuation of Mermaid Quay with a couple of uniformed policemen, one with fair, curly hair, who was quite tall and a nondescript chubby man, who kept shaking his head as if to say “can’t be done”. Rhys was standing behind her, his hands on his hips looking particularly belligerent. 

“Gwen, I’ve heard from Owen – we’re going back in, come on!”

“What about clearing the area?”

“Tell them it wasn’t World War Two ordinance after all- just hurry!”

As soon as she’d dismissed the bemused policemen, Gwen demanded that Tosh fill her in on the details as they hastily made their way back to the Tourist Office entrance. They could hardly take the lift when the Plass was under such close scrutiny by the emergency services, Gwen having used the pretext of an unexploded bomb in the sewers as a means of securing an immediate evacuation of the area. 

Tosh took a deep breath so that she could convey all the relevant factual information without interruption. As she imparted each detail, from John’s shooting of Gray to Jack’s breakdown, she could see Gwen’s eyes get steadily bigger. Gradually, they brimmed over with tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks, carrying traces of black mascara with them.

“Oh my God!” 

Gwen’s predictably heartfelt response was accompanied by a solemn look on Rhys’ face. 

“Oh bugger, he must be gutted. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling… seeing his brother killed an’ all.”

It struck Tosh that, despite Jack’s constant assertions that Gwen provided Torchwood with much needed humanity, she owed a lot of that to Rhys. Even though his reactions were more understated, they were just as sincere. He genuinely looked like he could empathise with Jack’s loss. She sensed that family meant a lot to Rhys. 

“Right then.” Gwen rubbed her eyes with the back of her sleeve and then sniffed loudly preparing herself for action. “Jack won’t be in any state to make decisions, someone has to take charge for the time being and seeing as-”

“No, Gwen – let’s find out what’s happening first. Before any decisions are made, we need to regroup. Owen said they’re all trapped in the lower levels. We’ve got to get them out of there.” 

Tosh bristled slightly at the unspoken assumptions made by Gwen that she was the natural successor to Jack’s position if he wasn’t able to take command. Yes, she’d done a good job after Jack left with The Doctor that time, but Owen hadn’t been in a fit state to cope then, not after everything he’d gone through. Her mind flitted through memories of Dianne, weevil fight club, mutiny and a demon – she’d tried to be there for him, but he’d been impossible to get through to. And then there was Ianto, he was a much stronger man than he’d been back then. Either of them would be as competent as Gwen at leading Torchwood if ever it came to that. 

“Of course.” Gwen bit back a retort, belatedly sensing the urgent tone in Tosh’s voice. “Come on. You too Rhys, stay close to me.”

Gwen grabbed hold of her husband’s hand. If she couldn’t lead Torchwood, she could at least take care of Rhys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the door locks eventually clicked open, Tosh sighed with relief. She’d called Owen back on the line he’d used, but his responses had been brief and to the point, only confirming that they’d make their way back to the doorway to the central area of the archives. She’d picked up on the tension in the curt conversation, as if there were things Owen wanted to say but felt he couldn’t- she would wait patiently until they could speak in person. 

First through the door was an anxious looking Ianto, eyes downcast as if avoiding looking any of them directly. He seemed intent on heading straight for the nearest computer terminal without saying a word to anyone. 

That wasn’t acceptable to Gwen who rushed forward, intent on getting his attention.

“Ianto, thank God you’re OK-”

Her platitudes were put on hold when Ianto finally looked up at her. His expression was gaunt; he looked close to complete exhaustion. A more thorough scrutiny revealed the multiple blood stains on his shirt. Gwen thought they must have come from Gray’s body. She could just imagine that, Ianto dashing forward trying in vain to save the life of Jack’s brother. Obviously, he must have failed and that would explain why he looked so completely devastated.

“Ianto, love, it’s alright. I’m sure you did what you could.” Gwen hugged him gently and looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Jack close behind. But there was no sight of him. She only saw Owen holding a gun pointed to John Hart’s head as he motioned him to move towards a chair.

“Got any cuffs down here, Ianto? I don’t want to know what you might use them for, just tell me where they might be.”

Ianto bit his tongue, wondering what could possess Owen to think he’d keep handcuffs in the archives. He sighed heavily and looked to one side.

“Top drawer on the right-hand side, at the back.”

“Thanks. Tosh, do me the honours, would you?” Owen nodded in the direction of the small, antique desk and then at John Hart.

“I’m not one to moan about a bit of restraint –” started John Hart, inadvisably.

“Shut up.” Ianto turned to face John Hart and gave him a glare that managed to instantly achieve the other man’s co-operation.

“Ianto, love, where’s Jack?” asked Gwen nervously. “Is he still down there? With Gray?”

“No.” Ianto pressed his lips firmly together as he prepared for the onslaught of questions and accusations that he’d been dreading.

“But- ?” Gwen looked confused.

“He went. Disappeared. Again.”

“What? How … I mean, I thought you were locked in.”

“Vortex manipulator – he used my wrist strap.” John Hart added helpfully, although the evil glare that Gwen spared him didn’t suggest she was particularly grateful.

“Where did he go?” Gwen shouted at Ianto, believing he could tell her where to find Jack and she’d go to him and comfort him.

“How the fuck should I know?” Ianto yelled back at her, knowing he shouldn’t take out his frustrations on her, but unable to hold back. “Contrary to what you think, he doesn’t actually tell me everything. Sometimes I feel that I barely know him.”

“Oh my God, you don’t think he’s gone off to find … you know… him? His doctor?”

“I wouldn’t blame him if he had … not this time. There’s nothing to keep him here.”

“Ianto?” Tosh looked up from where she was helping Owen secure Hart to a chair. “Jack wouldn’t just leave, not like that. You didn’t see him when he thought he’d lost you and Gwen…”

“That was before I held a gun at his kid brother’s head with every intention of killing him. Jack saw that - so I don’t suppose he’ll be quite so keen on my company any more.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” exclaimed Gwen. 

Her mind was reeling at this revelation. She couldn’t imagine what had been going through Ianto’s head. He must have known what effect that would have had on his relationship with Jack. She’d always thought Jack was the one to ride roughshod over Ianto’s heart, with no consideration for how his actions would affect the younger man. But now …

“That doesn’t matter anymore – anyway, John beat me to it.” 

Ianto tried to turn away, to put an end to a discussion that was going nowhere, but Gwen grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him around to face her once more.

“It bloody well does matter – did you know it was Gray that’d be down here? Did you go after him deliberately?”

“That really is none of your business.” Ianto shook off Gwen’s hand, but didn’t back away from her, refusing to be intimidated.

“If it’s the reason Jack’s pissed off and left m… us again, it is my business!” Gwen spat the words in his face, furious at the thought that Jack had left Torchwood.

“His brother is dead. It doesn’t matter now who pulled the fucking trigger! Or why. And Jack’s gone - ”

Gwen was close enough to see the pain in Ianto’s eyes. She could also sense that he was holding back, not telling her everything. 

“I thought we were close – after all we went through.” Gwen’s voice softened, but became no less persistent. She reached out to take his hand in hers. “I thought you knew you could talk to me. Come on, Ianto – what’s really going on?” 

Rhys had been standing in the background watching the drama unfold. Owen and Tosh were busy cuffing John Hart to a chair, taking longer over it than strictly necessary, no doubt as a strategy for staying out of the argument. Gwen was standing so close to Ianto, that there was barely room to pass a sheet of paper between them. 

The way Gwen used to talk about Ianto affectionately always made it sound like she thought of him as a little brother, even though Rhys did suspect she resented the fact that he got to spend more and more time with Jack. She’d mentioned to him that Jack didn’t seem to confide in her as much as he used to and that she assumed he was telling all his secrets to Ianto. That had come as a relief to Rhys, he’d had to deal with the aftermath of Jack revealing more of the horrors of their world to Gwen. She wasn’t the same woman anymore. 

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Rhys curled his fingers about the stun gun Jack had given him. He thought back to what Jack had said to him when he’d shown him how to use it in the armoury. Despite what Ianto may think, Rhys had recognised the fierce loyalty and devotion that Jack demonstrated when he’d threatened him if he made any moves to hurt Ianto. And it didn’t take a mastermind to figure out that whatever Ianto had done, his motives weren’t selfish, he’d have done it for Jack. The stupid idiots probably didn’t get around to saying it to each other very often, if at all, but it was pretty bloody obvious to him that they loved each other with a passion and that there was no way Jack would just up and leave Ianto. No more than Rhys would desert Gwen. No matter how much she really pissed him off sometimes. Like now.

“Gwen, love. Leave the man alone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep in the bowels of the Hub, a lone figure stooped over a drawer to one of the compartments in the morgue. The body he was attending to had been cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes. The hair had been brushed back from the face that was no longer distorted with anger. The fists had been unclenched before rigor mortis had the chance to set in and the limbs straightened. A pile of blood-soaked clothing lay in a heap on the ground, set aside and ignored, as were the sins committed by this poor deranged soul.

Jack fussed around with the white shroud, unwilling to completely shut away the body of his brother. He’d had to do this alone, he didn’t want anyone else touching Gray, not now, this was his last duty and responsibility to the brother he’d let down. Although this needn’t be the last time he saw him, he knew that once he pushed the drawer back into place, he’d seal it permanently. He needed to put all of this behind him, for the sake of the others who'd suffered because of his actions as a child. They deserved better. 

Leaning down to press a kiss to the cheek of Gray, a tear dripping from his face onto the pale flesh of his only sibling, he told him for the last time that he was sorry. And he was, so very sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite a tough chapter to re-edit this morning.  
> Been a rough week.  
> Last Tuesday got that call to the hospital - the one where they ask for family members to come quickly. My sister has been admitted a week earlier - gallstones they thought. A scan at the weekend was done - she told family there was nothing to be found. Tuesday she had trouble breathing and was sedated and put on a ventilator. We were told there were tumours in her liver - inoperable - and that she was going into organ failure. 24 hours after the call to go home, the consultant was talking to me and my brother about withdrawing dialysis and the drugs that were meant to be keeping blood pressure up, but were failing. On Wednesday afternoon, my brother and I held her hand as her heart slowed and finally stopped. My brother had placed his iPhone on her pillow, playing Rumours by Fleetwood Mac, and she passed away to Dreams. She was only 55. I had to then go to see my housebound mother and break the news.


	38. Chapter 38

After an awkward few moments, Ianto gently pushed his way past Gwen to get access to the computer. Tosh joined him offering her support and any assistance needed. Ianto pulled over a second swivel chair, letting Tosh take the first and then he logged on, impatiently pushing his long hair from his face and wincing as any contact with the damaged skin on his hand sent shocks of agony along his nerves. His back was also protesting as he sat down, the kick to his spine from Gray causing more than a little discomfort. 

“Rhys?” called out Owen, getting the attention of Gwen’s husband who was looking totally lost. “Keep an eye on Captain Dickhead here while I go fetch my medical kit.”

Owen had noticed Ianto’s face betray the spasms of pain he was experiencing. He may be able to hide it from the less observant, but Owen wasn’t so easily fooled. The accumulation of physical and emotional injuries was taking its toll and while he couldn’t do anything about the latter, he had medications for the former.

“No worries, Owen, be my pleasure,” agreed Rhys readily, thankful for something useful to do. 

Rhys took the stun gun from his pocket and held it at the ready, in case John Hart tried to escape. He was unimpressed when his prisoner melodramatically rolled his eyes. He didn’t like John Hart, he thought he was a cocky bastard, so full of himself that he managed to make Jack look modest in comparison.

Gwen looked across and gave Rhys an encouraging smile, it was then that Owen’s request registered, and it confused her. She frowned and pointed at John Hart, while glaring at Owen. 

“Hang on a minute, you’re not thinking of treating his injuries are you?” 

“No, of course not. However, Ianto does need medical care, no matter what he says.” Owen raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly in the direction of Ianto’s bloodied shirt, surprised that Gwen hadn’t noticed it already. 

“What happened?” Gwen asked, ashamed that she’d been so focused on Jack and his tragic situation that she hadn’t even realised that the blood on Ianto’s shirt was his own.

“Gray,” Owen said, feeling that he didn’t need to provide any further details. “Being stuck in the past has made someone a bit reckless if you ask me.”

Grumbling to himself as he pointed at Ianto, Owen busied himself gathering what he’d need to treat yet more damage. It occurred to him that Ianto really did need to stop acting like he was disposable.

Gwen bit her tongue as she watched Owen turn his back on her. It wasn’t the time to demand more answers, but she desperately wanted to know what the hell had happened down in the room known as BM4TM-10. What she’d found out so far was that Gray was dead, that Ianto had been about to kill him, but John had shot first. Then, Jack had teleported with his brother’s body to an unknown destination. And now she also knew that Ianto had been wounded by Gray badly enough to have bled all over his shirt. As for Owen, she’d caught sight of his hand before he’d tucked it into his pocket, out of view. She could have sworn it was sliced open. 

It made Gwen shudder, she’d seen it all before, horrific violence inflicted because of a perceived wrong committed in childhood. She’d encountered juvenile offenders in the course of her career with the police, so the circumstances weren’t new to her, although she’d never been directly affected by the aftermath before. Her train of thought was derailed as Tosh leaned back and tapped her arm, drawing her attention to their efforts to locate Jack.

“OK – it’s running now, let’s see what we’ve got,” said Ianto, sitting back so that both Tosh and Gwen could see the screen. “Starting from the highest levels working down… nothing in Jack’s office, on the upper walkways or in the main Hub… hang on, make that one lukewarm signal drifting across the area, that’ll be Myfanwy… nothing in the autopsy bay, even if Owen was there, he’s operating at room temperature these days. Next level – five signals in the archives – just the four of us and Hart. Then in the vaults, those would be the weevils, evenly spaced out in their cells, thank goodness, they’re still in there. Got it – one stationary thermal signature, slightly brighter than ours, that has to be Jack.” 

Ianto didn’t realise how closely he was emulating Jack’s earlier gesture as he reached out and touched the screen with his fingertips as if comforting the other man. He wasn’t sure how much closer he’d be able to get to him.

“That’s the morgue,” Tosh spoke softly, recognising the location instantly. “Pull up the security camera feed.”

“That’s good isn’t it, team?” John Hart was quietly pleased that Jack was still around. “Sounds like he’s accepted that Gray’s dead, dealing with his body… of course he might not hang about for long once he’s done that…”

“I hate it when my subconscious agrees with you.” Ianto sighed as John Hart put into words the possibility that worried him most. He stood up to release the tension in his back and walked across to where the other man was cuffed to a chair. He leaned against a filing cabinet, his uninjured hand resting on his denim clad hip. “While he’s still got that wrist strap, there’s nothing keeping him from doing a runner…again.”

Tosh had surreptitiously taken over the keyboard from Ianto as he’d got up to speak to Hart. She located Jack easily enough with the cameras installed in the morgue and what she saw made her heart ache for him. She could see the light reflecting off the tears that ran down his face, the way he lovingly took care of his brother’s mortal remains. One glance at Gwen showed the same reaction, and as both women looked over at Ianto, they agreed wordlessly that he didn’t need to witness the pain the other man was going through, he was having a bad enough time of it already. Tosh pressed a combination of keys and then swore gently in Japanese.

“Problem, Tosh?” Ianto swung round, concerned at the exclamation he’d heard. 

“Internal surveillance system has crashed again – not getting any visuals.” Tosh shrugged. “But the thermal imaging shows he’s still there, not moving.”

“Right then, I’d better-”

“I want to talk to him,” John announced. “Take me there. I need to see him.”

“Oi you, shut up.” Rhys prodded Hart in the back with the stun gun.

“Not a chance in a hell.” Ianto shook his head vehemently. “You’re not getting anywhere near Jack.”

“Come on – last wish of a condemned man? I thought you were the honourable type, Ianto Jones. Look, I think I can get through to him and if he’s so pissed off that he shoots the first person he sees, better it’s me than one of you lot. Yes?”

“Why are you suddenly being so gallant?” Gwen demanded, not trusting Hart any further than she could throw him. “What the hell are you up to now?”

“I’ll be completely honest with you – I want that wrist strap back and the chance to use it. He promised it to me, we had a deal, you heard him, Gwen! If he refuses to hand it over or shoots at me, I’ll give up, you can lock me up and throw away the key.”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to you rather than any of us?” Tosh asked out of curiosity. She could almost hear the cogs grinding away in Hart’s skull and wondered what he was planning next.

“He’d rather see me than you, sweetheart, because he doesn’t feel like he’s let me down. He won’t be able to face any of his beloved team, you’re the ones he’s running away from.” John Hart wondered if these people understood anything about their leader. “Chances are he’ll let me get close enough just to get the chance at revenge for finishing off his psychotic sibling.”

“I should be the one to take that risk,” stated Ianto with finality. 

“Don’t be such a fucking moron.” John gave Ianto a look that made it clear he really did think he’d lost the plot. “If he’s still mad and shoots you, how do you think he’ll feel afterwards? In the off chance that he’s in two minds about whether or not to jump planets, that would be the decider. You want to send him spiralling into an abyss of madness and grief, go ahead and be my guest!”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Ianto loomed over John Hart, whose hands were clenching the arms of the chair he was cuffed to, eyes flashing dangerously. He didn’t have time for Hart’s games and was getting ever closer to gagging him.

“Bloody hell, I thought you were more intelligent than that… mind you, considering who you’re in a relationship with, you can’t be all that clever. He loves you, Jones, and no matter what you’ve done or would’ve done, he’ll forgive you. But if he kills or maims you he won’t be able to forgive himself, ever – understand that?” John Hart put every ounce of sincerity he could muster into his plea. He needed Ianto to understand exactly what he was saying. “Now, let me talk to him. You can hang around outside with the biggest fucking gun you have if it makes you feel better and if you don’t like what I do or say, you can pull the trigger. Come on now, that’s an offer even I couldn’t refuse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Against his better instincts and after a row with Gwen and a shouting session with Owen, Ianto finally allowed Hart to have his chance. If it got him killed, it was his own lookout and they had thoroughly searched him first – well Owen had, wearing latex gloves and cursing Ianto for pointing out that he was the medic amongst them. 

Having found no weapons or other concealed devices on or in John Hart, Ianto accompanied him to the morgue. Gwen had kept watch on the heat signals from the morgue and reported that Jack hadn’t moved for the last fifteen minutes. In that time, Owen had quickly cleaned the cut on Ianto’s chest and dressed the sores on his hand, having made it clear that Ianto would be the one cuffed to a chair in the archives if he refused medical treatment. Tosh had also been kind enough to fetch him a clean shirt from his locker. He really didn’t want Jack to notice the injuries before he’d had the opportunity to talk to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking slowly across the walkway into the morgue area, John Hart could feel Ianto’s eyes boring holes in his back. He could imagine Ianto setting the sights on the rifle he’d insisted on bringing along with him; his head was probably already neatly bisected by the electronic crosshairs. 

Jack was sitting on the floor, his back to the mortuary drawers, cradling a bundle of blood stained clothes in his lap. He didn’t seem surprised to see John approach him and wasn’t going for his gun straightaway, which was always a good sign.

“My whole life I was looking for him,” said Jack mournfully. “Now I have to lose him all over again.”

“There weren’t many other options you know. What else could you have done”

“I could have put him in cryo-storage after I knocked him out with the weevil spray, he wouldn’t have known a thing -”

“And what? Defrosted him every few years to see if he wasn’t bad anymore? ’Cos that makes loads of sense. Maybe killing him was the release he needed. He got close to wiping out your entire team, your friends… would’ve taken out a lot more if he’d detonated those bombs.”

“One death’s more than enough.” Jack shut his eyes, recalling how close Gray had actually got to taking each one of his team away from him. Tosh’s gunshot wound, Owen’s encounter with the Hoix, Ianto and Gwen’s fight for survival in the Iron Age. Even the explosions in the old factory building could so easily have killed them all.

“It’s not your fault,” stated John quickly, before Jack started on yet again about his culpability.

“Why did you do it?” Jack looked over his shoulder at the drawer behind which his brother lay resting peacefully at last.

“To save Eye Candy from doing it for you.” John sat down on the floor, a respectful distance from Jack, his back to the wall, looking towards the dark recesses at the far end of the open area. He hoped Ianto would hear what he was saying, he wanted him to know that he’d seen through his noble plan to save Jack’s soul.

“For me?” Jack was confused.

“Gray was beyond dangerous. Like a rabid dog he had to be put down. You couldn’t have done it without it destroying you. Eye Candy figured that out, that’s why he took him on alone. Stupid bastard, he must really have it bad for you if he’d rather suffer your hatred than have you despise yourself for eternity. Because that’s what it would’ve been, wouldn’t it? Forever, ’cos you can’t die.”

John stopped talking to give Jack time to take in what he’d said. Glancing sideways he could see him wiping his hand over his face, looking bewildered and shocked. He could tell that it hadn’t occurred to Jack that Ianto would be prepared to make that sort of sacrifice for him. 

“That explains why Ianto was going to do it – doesn’t explain why you did it instead.” Jack’s voice sounded shaky as he turned to John seeking an answer.

“You two really do deserve each other – you can both be so fucking thick when it comes to something so bloody simple!” yelled John, unable to keep a lid on his frustration any longer. “I told you yesterday that I loved you and you didn’t believe me then and you still don’t. You’re an annoying bastard, but I can’t get you out of my head. Somewhere down the line from shagging each other senseless, I actually started caring about you. Then when you left, I bloody missed you. That’s not me – not the way I work, but you got to me. I thought finding Gray would be a way to get you back … and as soon as I found out his original plan to bury you in the past I worked out a way to sabotage it –”

“But you let him take Ianto and Gwen-” Jack shook his head in bitter recollection of the danger they’d been placed in.

“And I helped you get them back!” John countered quickly.

“You let Gray out of his cell – what the hell made you do that?”

“I told you before – you humiliated me, that’s why I turned him loose. You know me, short fuse … I’m sorry I did that, but you really, really shouldn’t piss me off. But if I hadn’t, what were you going to do with him? Keep him locked up like one of those pet bite-y weevil things? You may hate me for what I did, but it had to be done and you’d never have been able to do it. I did it for the same reason Eye Candy was going to – because I happen to love you, you self-centred prick.”

John Hart shut his eyes and bashed his head against the wooden drawer behind him. He sat there in silence waiting for Jack’s reaction. 

“You know what? Maybe I do believe you now.” Jack sniffed as he undid the buckle on one of the two wrist straps he wore. “I said I’d give you this if you helped us.”

Standing up abruptly, he handed the strap over to John and then put his hands in his pockets, signifying that he wouldn’t take it back. He didn’t want the temptation of using it; he had responsibilities and people here who depended on him. This whole mess had come about because he’d let one person down when he’d had no control over the situation. Now was the time to make amends for that.

“You were anxious to get the hell out of here – any idea where you’re heading?” Jack asked as he watched John slowly stand up.

“Lot of this planet I haven't seen. You like it so much, thought I might take a look. Maybe see you around.”

As John fastened the leather strap firmly about his own wrist, he looked up in time to see Jack begin to walk past him. He held out a hand to Jack’s chest stopping him in his tracks. Moving in for a farewell kiss, thinking he’d earned it, John was dismayed as Jack turned his head making sure their lips didn’t meet. 

Taking his hand from Jack’s chest and stepping away, John cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

With that he walked away, leaving Jack alone. He didn’t see him leaning on the wall of mortuary compartments, his head wearily resting on his arms that were pressed against the drawers of those he’d outlived.

As John drew close to Ianto, he saw the younger man lower his rifle and look him directly in the eye. It was up to him now and John really hoped that he’d manage to give Jack some measure of happiness and keep the loneliness at bay.

“Thank you.” Ianto’s voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t make me regret this Eye Candy. I might pop by in the future see how things are going.”

“Take care out there. Try not to make too many enemies.” 

John Hart grinned as he pressed a combination of buttons on the wrist strap and vanished – like the Cheshire cat it seemed to Ianto that his grin was the last part of him to disappear.

“Has he gone?” Jack’s voice was quiet, yet strong.

“Yep.” Ianto smiled sadly, of course Jack had known he was there the whole time.

“We need to talk. Send the others home and I’ll see you in my office in… say twenty minutes?”

“Yes, sir.” Biting his lower lip, Ianto knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he turned to leave Jack alone with his grief.

“And Ianto – you never did get your coffee this morning – could you make some fresh and bring me a cup? Please.”

“Yes… yes, of course.” 

Ianto had tears in his eyes as he closed the door behind him, but he was smiling. All was not lost. Jack hadn’t left, he wanted to talk and he’d asked for coffee. There was hope and an outside chance that the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t an approaching train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments after the last update. Still awaiting post mortem results, but funeral planned for week after next...


	39. Chapter 39

“What do you mean he’s gone?” blurted Gwen, not letting Ianto finish what he was trying to say.

“Not Jack. He’s still here. Hart’s gone. Jack gave him the wrist strap and let him go.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Owen shook his head in disbelief. “Just like that? If it had been up to me, I’d have wrung his scrawny fucking neck after all he’s put us through.”

“I’m with Owen. I had in mind a pair of heels I was hoping to introduce to his balls,” added Tosh, sounding uncharacteristically vindictive. “I was looking forward to wiping that smug grin off his face.” 

“Oh yes, Tosh, you and me both. Thanks to that bastard, I spent seven bloody months living in a flea ridden hovel,” exclaimed Gwen with exasperation. “What the hell was Jack thinking?”

Ianto shook his head in annoyance as he glared at each of them in turn. If there was ever a time to let Jack do things his way, it was now. Letting John Hart off so lightly may have been an indulgence that he personally disagreed with, but it was Jack’s prerogative and he would defend him on this.

“Ah well, that’s Jack for you – always giving people second chances. Generous to a fault. Too eager to forgive.” The chorus of outraged protests fell silent as Ianto raised his eyebrows as if to challenge anyone to disagree with him. “Each one of us has been granted at least one extra chance by Jack, without which we wouldn’t we standing here now.”

“Talk for yourself, teaboy,” spat Owen, intent on rejecting any parallels that Ianto was trying to draw. “– after that stunt with the robot girlfriend-” 

“That’s out of order, Owen!” snapped Tosh.

“No, he’s got a point,” responded Ianto, shrugging his shoulders wearily. “But not just me, collectively we’ve betrayed Jack – or have you all forgotten staging a coup and opening the rift? And individually, we’ve all made what could be generously called errors of judgement, any of which could have had disastrous consequences. Yet, none of us were imprisoned or retconned, or executed for that matter – all punishments we’d have been given by either UNIT or Torchwood London without question.”

Ianto’s words gave them all cause to reconsider their hasty condemnation of Jack’s capacity for forgiveness. 

“He said you were all to go home.” Ianto took advantage of the awkward silence to relay Jack’s orders. “It’s over. Make good your escape before he changes his mind and wants reports writing up.”

“But what about the police station? The hospital? Turnmill?” demanded Tosh, looking flustered. 

Tosh couldn’t help worrying that Torchwood hadn’t fulfilled its obligations to safeguard these institutions from alien threats – even if the threat this time had been their leader’s own flesh and blood. She looked to Owen as he was the only one present to know exactly what she was going on about, Gwen and Ianto having missed the chaos maliciously unleashed on the city. 

“What’s happened?” asked Gwen, anxiously looking from Tosh to Owen. “The police station – ”

“They’ve all got their own personnel assigned to emergency response situations – they can deal with it. That’s what they’re trained to do,” snarled Owen. “The good citizens of Cardiff might have to put up with curfews and power shortages for the next few days. Tough shit, it could’ve been much worse.”

Owen tried hard not to show how exasperated he was. Honestly, he thought with irritation, Torchwood had its limits – surely Tosh didn’t expect the four of them to take charge of the chaos at the police headquarters and hospital, never mind the nuclear power plant? He was a physician not a physicist, or did she think maybe Ianto could tackle it, seeing as he’d mastered the complexities of that infernal coffee machine in the Hub? Maybe she thought Gwen’s experience as a copper on the beat would enable her to take command of the entire Cardiff City Police Department. 

“You’re right, Owen.” Tosh admitted, realising that he was talking sense and that, however heroic her colleagues were, they were only human. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift. Except you may have to drive,” Owen scowled as he looked at his hand that was swathed in more layers of bandages than an Egyptian mummy. It wasn’t as if they’d help the open cut heal, but Gwen and Tosh had decided it looked horrific and wanted to make sure there was no risk of it becoming visible by accident. 

“I’ll go fetch Rhys,” Gwen looked up to the small kitchenette area and smiled as she saw Rhys with his sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in suds and dirty mugs. “I got him to do the washing up to keep him busy. Be right back.”

“You gonna be alright, Ianto?” 

Owen had waited until Gwen was out of sight before broaching the subject. He could see that Ianto looked more dead on his feet than he did and would probably have crashed by now if he wasn’t anxiously trying to get them all to leave. Owen hoped that Jack wasn’t going to say or do anything to cause him further pain. Ianto didn’t look like he take much more.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Ianto caught the look in Owen’s eyes that made it clear his concerns were not solely for his physical well-being. “Just leave out some more of the good analgesics will you, before you leave?”

“Only if you promise to eat something with them and actually get a decent night’s sleep – you’re running on fumes as it is.” Owen narrowed his eyes as he let Ianto know that he could see right through the façade he was putting up.

“If you won’t give me the good stuff I’ll just have to raid Jack’s malt whisky collection.” 

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t end up knocking back a handful of pain meds and washing them down with a tumbler of whisky anyway?”

“After what I’ve been through since yesterday morning? Absolutely none.” Ianto spotted the way that Owen flinched, fully prepared to believe him capable of seeking oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. “I won’t do anything terminally stupid – OK?”

As Gwen returned, dragging Rhys behind her, she caught the tail end of their conversation. What she heard worried her. She felt guilty for giving Ianto a rough time, especially considering what he’d gone through to make sure they both survived being stranded in the past. Looking at Rhys she had a suspicion that he’d taken better care of her than Jack had of Ianto, after all he’d not had other matters on his mind, and had been one hundred percent focused on her and her comforts. 

“Ianto – if you want to come back to our place, I’m sure Rhys won’t mind – will you, love?” A quick glance at her husband’s earnest look of acceptance confirmed her supposition. “We could grab something to eat on the way over and a couple of bottles of wine or a few beers if you fancy?”

“I appreciate the offer, Gwen, really I do, but not tonight. Maybe at the weekend if the offer stays open. Be nice to share a meal that’s not a burnt offering.” Ianto winked at Gwen, reminding her of the jokes they’d made to help face their meagre diet over the past months. “However, there are matters here I need to deal with first.” 

“I don’t suppose Jack said anything about taking a few days off after this mess?” Owen asked, thinking they were all owed some down time.

“Never mind what Jack says, I think we’ve all earned a day off,” suggested Gwen. “Rhys pointed out to me that Ianto and I have put in several months overtime in the space of twenty-four hours, so we definitely deserve a break -”

“And Tosh should rest that gunshot wound and I’ll need to keep an eye on that.” Owen gave Tosh a sly wink. “So we’re agreed then? Nobody comes into work tomorrow? Unless the rift spews out hordes of giant, blood-sucking hamsters – OK?”

There was unanimous agreement for that decision and before long they were all leaving the Hub, not a moment too soon as far as Ianto was concerned.

“Take care of yourself.” Gwen gave Ianto a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before taking Rhys by the hand and leading him towards the cog wheel exit. She could see that Ianto was anxious and realised belatedly that he’d been waiting for them to leave so that he could go to Jack. She just hoped they’d be able to comfort each other, after all she doubted if anyone else could. 

Ianto leaned heavily against the railing as he watched his team mates leave. He knew that if asked they’d have stayed behind to clear up the mess, looking around he could see that the Hub looked like it had been the scene of a party that had been gate-crashed by a gaggle of inebriated weevils. But the real mess wasn’t broken equipment and bullet-riddled walls, it was shattered hearts and frayed relationships, emotions stretched to their limit and then snapped. He hoped he had the strength to persuade Jack that the damage could be repaired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he knew for certain that there was no one left in the Hub but Ianto and himself, Jack made his way from the morgue to his office. The smell of coffee and the gurgling sound of the water trickling through the ground beans met him as walked towards his office. He was surprised that Ianto wasn’t there, in attendance to the temperamental coffee machine, but there was no sign of him. Jack frowned and began to fear that he’d not been clear enough about wanting him to stay behind. This was exacerbated when he found his office empty.

Taking the modified device they’d taken with them into the past when searching for Gwen and Ianto, Jack fed in the parameters for the transmission frequency of the ring he knew Ianto was still wearing. He’d complained bitterly about the thing being stuck on his finger and although Jack knew how to disengage the ring, he quite liked the idea of having a means of tracking down Ianto. Jack knew it was cheating, but he very much doubted that Ianto was playing a game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto was standing in front of a steamed-up mirror in the shower block, awkwardly attempting to shave off his beard using his left hand. It was cold and the bare concrete walls echoed with the sounds of a dripping tap and his curses as, yet again, he nicked his skin and dropped the razor in the basin of soapy water. He had desperately wanted to rid himself of the last vestige of his time in the past. If he was to help Jack move forward, he didn’t need such a blatant reminder of what had happened. Ianto was on intimate terms with the brand of self-flagellating remorse that Jack also excelled in and didn’t want him thinking about what he’d suffered in the Iron Age. The problem was that he couldn’t grip the razor with his right hand and this was taking far longer than he’d anticipated. But there was no way he could leave it half finished. 

Swearing loudly, Ianto swiped a clear space in the condensation once more, picked up the razor and tried yet again. Focusing on the bristles on his right cheek, he almost jumped out of his skin when a warm arm snaked its way round his naked waist and a hand reached up to take the razor from him. 

“Want a hand with that?”

“Fuck – it’s been more than twenty minutes hasn’t it?” Ianto leant forward and hit his head against the mirror. He never kept Jack waiting. It was a given. Looking up he could make out Jack’s face in the cleared patch in the glass, staring back at his own reflection. 

“Nearer forty – but I should’ve known it would take a while to get the others to leave. Not like you to lose track of time though.” Jack pulled Ianto back until his naked back was pressed against his chest, gently stroked the soft, fuzzy hair on his stomach with his thumb and then leaned around to kiss him softly on the temple. It occurred to him that his actions were possessive, as if he was claiming Ianto as his own, and he smiled, happy to admit the truth to himself.

“No watch.” Ianto’s voice sounded strained as he held up his bare wrist.

“They took it from you?” Jack frowned, thinking back to what Ianto had told him about having had everything taken from him. The thought of strangers stripping Ianto bare angered him. He must have been terrified.

“Yep and the stopwatch … smashed it to pieces on a rock, claimed it was evil.” Ianto tried to make light if it, seeing the dark look descending on Jack’s brow.

“I guess it always did bring out your wicked side, so maybe they were onto something.” A ghost of a smirk teased the corners of Jack’s lips. “I’ll replace it and the watch.”

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” Jack leant his chin on Ianto’s shoulder and their eyes met in the reflection. “Least I can do … but for now, let me help with this.”

Jack brushed his fingertips across the uneven bristles on Ianto’s jaw before gently taking the other man’s shoulder and turning him around to face him. That’s when he saw the ugly red line cut into Ianto’s chest all the way across.

“What the hell -?” Jack held onto Ianto’s arms, so he couldn’t hide the wound.

“You’re not going to believe me if I say I cut myself shaving, are you?” Ianto sighed; he’d wanted to have a shirt on when he spoke with Jack for a reason.

“It was Gray, wasn’t it?” Jack forced himself to look at the cut that, if much deeper, could have been far worse. He could see that it had been a swipe across the chest aiming upwards, a slightly different angle and the point of the blade could have been thrust through the diaphragm and into Ianto’s heart. Jack inhaled deeply and as he exhaled the truth became clearer and the lines less blurred. John had been right. Gray wouldn’t have stopped until he’d killed those he loved most. If he’d have kept Gray alive he would’ve eventually managed to find a way to murder Ianto, just to hurt Jack.

“It’s alright. I’ve got much better at dodging swords.” Ianto blurted out and then wished he could take the words back. He’d been shaving in order to avoid reminding Jack that he’d been stuck in a time when everyday disputes were settled at knifepoint. “This is nothing – Owen said it won’t even leave a scar.”

Jack couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, he just steered Ianto back towards the sink, drained away the tepid water and replaced it with fresh hot water and then took over from where Ianto had left off. Slowly and methodically he concentrated on carefully shaving away the remaining bristles … rinsing the razor off after each gentle swipe. He remained quiet as he worked his way over Ianto’s face, reclaiming inch by inch, the face of the man he’d led into a booby-trapped building the day before. Their relationship had been drastically affected by events that had taken place between then and now, but Jack had come so close to losing Ianto for good that he knew in his heart that this couldn’t be an ending, it had to mark a new beginning.

“Thank you,” muttered Ianto when Jack declared the job finished and gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile of gratitude. He rinsed his face clean and then grabbed a towel.

“You ready for that talk now?” Jack asked, not sure that he was, but knowing they needed to talk before they could move on.

“Guess so.” Ianto was suddenly nervous, the intensity of Jack’s gaze was enough to make his knees weak and his head light. That and lack of food. A grumbling sound from his stomach supported that theory.

“I’m surprised you’re still standing.” Jack shook his head in dismay, yet again he’d forgotten that even though he could keep going for days without sleep or much food, Ianto was likely to pass out trying to keep up with him. “Come on – no arguments. Coffee and something to eat, then we talk.”

Jack watched as Ianto shrugged on a shirt and then left it open after an attempt to do up the buttons caused him to wince in pain. Any other time, the sight of a freshly shaved, bare-chested Ianto, sleeves rolled up, wearing tight jeans, held up by a faded leather belt … not to mention the long, curls of damp hair sticking to the nape of his neck… on any other occasion the young Welshman wouldn’t have been able to utter the words “not here” before Jack would have devoured him on the spot. But the spectre of Gray standing between them had to be put to rest first. This wasn’t a matter to be solved by fast, furious sex that left clothing strewn from one end of the Hub to the other and resulted in bruises from furniture that failed to get out of the way quickly enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack poured out two glasses of whisky, not too much, knowing that Ianto would have taken at least one pain killer on an empty stomach. He was pleased to see that the tray that had been set down on his desk had a plate of biscuits on it to go with the two large mugs of steaming black coffee.

Ianto drank deeply of the coffee, savouring the bitterness and the strength. He could almost feel the caffeine seeping into his veins.

“OK – you first.” Jack drank from his mug and then took a gulp of whisky, letting the heat of the coffee speed up the evaporation of the alcohol. He allowed the anger that had been fermenting inside him the opportunity to manifest itself. “What the hell possessed you to put yourself in danger and decide to take on Gray single-handed without any regard to the chain of command? What gave you the right to take decisions regarding his fate completely out of my hands?”

Ianto didn’t flinch, he’d been expecting as much.

“With all due respect, sir, it wasn’t Torchwood business, it was personal and as such you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be put in that situation.”

“You mean having to kill someone I loved to save the lives of countless others?” Jack’s voice had become louder, more out of control and the next words came out before he could hold them back. “Like I asked you to do with Lisa?”

“I don’t recall that being a request as much as an order. At gunpoint.” Ianto said quietly as he clutched the cut glass tumbler tightly and then downed its contents in one.

Jack winced at the irony of the situation. Ianto had been prepared to perform for him the one act of kindness that he personally had been denied. It had been Jack’s bruised ego that had brought out the cruel, sadistic side to his personality – the aspect that had given Ianto cause to call him a monster and in the past twenty-four hours his own brother had become the monster to be destroyed. It had come full circle.

“You should’ve told me when you knew where Gray was – given me the option of going after him. It should’ve been my decision to make, not yours.”

“You couldn’t have done it.” Ianto shook his head sadly. “If you had, it would’ve killed you.”

“You know damn well I can’t die!” 

“Bollocks! Just because your body won’t stay dead, doesn’t mean that your soul doesn’t slowly die bit by bit, every time you’re forced to do something you hate for the benefit of the greater good. And they stay with you and haunt you – every necessary evil you’ve ever had to condone or conduct.”

Jack was struck speechless by Ianto’s insight and perception of how it was for him. If only he knew about the atrocities he’d gone along with in the past. However, Jack was beginning to think that Ianto would accept him no matter what. For that he should be eternally grateful, and probably very afraid.

“I hoped that I could save him, but I was too damn late … Ianto, what happened was my fault. Whatever the cost to my soul, it was my responsibility-”

“Don’t you dare say that – it was not your fault – he was totally incapable of receiving forgiveness, never mind giving it.” Ianto persisted, sensing that Jack was gradually coming to terms with the inevitability of Gray’s death. “He was no longer capable of feeling love.”

Jack swallowed hard and got up from his seat. Kneeling next to the Ianto’s chair, he took his hand in his, noticing properly for the first time the dressing applied to the palm. He hadn’t stopped to think why Ianto had been struggling to shave. Tracing a finger over the gauze padding, he frowned.

“What happened here?”

“Loose wire, I told you last month that the wiring down there is in a bad way – bit of a shock that’s all, burnt the skin.”

“He nearly electrocuted you, didn’t he?” Jack cradled the hand and kissed it tenderly. He shuddered to think of the number of times Ianto had nearly died in what had been only two days for him.

“He didn’t, that’s all that matters now.”

“I heard you tell him that I never stopped loving him.”

“He needed to hear the truth.”

“Thank you for that.” Jack took a shallow breath and held back the tears. “Despite everything, I can’t blame him for what he did. His mind was gone, ravaged – nothing left but hatred. Those creatures took away everything that he was… but you’re right, I couldn’t have killed him.”

Jack crouched down, rested his head on Ianto’s thigh and closed his eyes. He was so damned tired and he wanted to get away from the Hub, away from reminders of what had happened. He heard Ianto sigh as if hearing his thoughts and then the gentle touch of his hand stroking his head, caressing his shoulders, letting him know that he was still there for him.

“Ianto, get me out of here. Anywhere, just somewhere that’s not here.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One long, reconciliation chapter. To be followed by an epilogue.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The view across the Bay, with lights flickering on the choppy water churned up by the winds, went unnoticed; neither occupant of the room was taking advantage of the outlook afforded by the prime location. 

A great coat lay where it had been flung haphazardly over the chair at the desk, sleeves of abandoned shirts stretched out across the floor as if reaching towards the discarded boots and socks that seemed to have been tossed in random directions. Bunched up on the floor, next to the bed, sat a pair of dark blue trousers, the braces and belt long since redundant. Each item of clothing strewn from the doorway to the bed was sodden wet from the downpour that the two men had ran through on their way to the hotel.

Light spilled into the room as the bathroom door was flung open and Jack looked around, confused. His hair was plastered to his face and rivulets of cold water trickled down and across his broad chest. 

“Hey there, am I losing my irresistible allure or something? I thought you were going to join me for a shower.” 

Jack walked across to the bed and gently jostled Ianto’s leg. 

“Ianto? You asleep?” 

Ianto was lying on his front, arms flung above his head where he’d evidently dived onto the bed as soon as Jack had left the room to use the bathroom. He hadn’t even got as far as taking off his jeans, which were wet through and getting the bedcovers damp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack switched on the bedside lamp and then pushed back wet strands of hair from Ianto’s face to see if his eyes were shut. He sighed as he took in just how exhausted Ianto looked; back at the Hub he’d been too caught up in his own misery to take into account the actual state Ianto was in. Then on the way to the hotel, a leisurely stroll had turned into a dash for cover as they’d been caught in the squally storm that had blown in off the Bay. He’d only just stopped to look at Ianto properly and what he saw made his heart ache.

Running his fingertips down Ianto’s back, Jack stopped abruptly when he felt the muscles spasm as Ianto flinched. Closer examination showed dark bruising blossoming across the base of his spine. Jack tried to remember what Owen had said about fractured lumbar vertebrae and then muttered a curse. That must have been hurting like hell and he’d had Ianto run through the wind and rain to a hotel, instead of accepting Ianto’s offer to drive him back to his place. Jack had wanted to relieve the burden of care from Ianto; instead he’d just managed to inflict more harm.

“Sorry,” Jack apologised, realising that he’d woken Ianto up as the young man stirred on the bed.

“S’alright … just meant to lie down for a minute … didn’t mean to fall asleep. What’s up?” Ianto looked over his shoulder as he noticed that Jack’s attention was diverted to his back.

“Gray?” Jack grimaced as he realised that his brother’s name had become synonymous in his mind with a cause of pain or anguish to those he loved.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” mumbled Ianto, picking up on the sadness in Jack’s voice and wishing he could hide every trace of the injuries he’d sustained.

“You can’t see it,” admonished Jack, shaking his head forlornly. The intensity of the discoloration on the pale skin showed just how vicious the blow or kick must have been and that troubled Jack. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s time to stop – I don’t want you playing down what you’ve gone through to spare my feelings. It’s my fault-”

“And that’s precisely the reason I have to do it!” Ianto rolled over onto his side and glared at Jack. “As long as you insist on taking responsibility for every act of mindless violence and senseless cruelty committed by your brother, I’ve got no choice-”

“Dammit, Ianto. You’ve been dragged through hell and back – and, from what I’ve heard you were all prepared to book a one-way ticket out of my life, just to spare me having to deal directly with the consequences of my actions-” 

His outburst petered out as Jack got a good look at Ianto’s face, dark circles under his eyes drawing attention to the fact that he wasn’t just tired, but in pain. The last thing he needed was another fight. Jack reached out to brush a thumb across the lines that creased Ianto’s forehead as if he could erase the weariness. 

“You have every right to shout and scream that you’re hurting and… and it’s about time you let me look after you for a change.”

Jack knew that he was onto a loser if he was expecting Ianto to regret his actions or to start putting his own needs first. But he could do something about how he behaved towards Ianto. He knew damn well that there was no way that Ianto was going to look after himself properly and that it was about time he actually repaid him for his unfailing loyalty and care. Jack needed to look after this man before their luck ran out and he really needed to make sure Ianto knew what he meant to him. Closing his eyes briefly he could imagine the accusatory looks of the rest of his team fixed on him, each of them taking him to task for neglecting the one person who’d literally give up everything for him, whether he deserved it or not.

“You’re soaking wet - you can’t go to sleep like this.” Jack squeezed drips of water from Ianto’s longer hair to prove the point. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“Colds are caused by viruses …” Ianto rolled his eyes. “It’ll be a virus that would be the death of me, not going to sleep with wet hair.”

For some unfathomable reason, Ianto’s words made Jack shudder and it wasn’t just the fact that he was also still cold from the rain. He bit his lip and just hauled Ianto up from the bed, encompassing him in a hug that threatened to break ribs and squeeze the last breath of air from his lungs. 

“Hey there, it’s OK. Still here.” 

Ianto hugged Jack back. He’d been startled by the reaction his words had evoked, but could sense that Jack was still on edge. 

“Yeah, you’re still here. Not sure what I’d have done if I’d lost any of you in the last few days – can’t quite believe you’re here with me still – after everything.”

“You’re shivering – what was that you said about a shower?”

“Come on – before those jeans shrink onto you, let’s get them off and get you warmed up as well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After careful consideration, Jack had ran a bath for Ianto, not wanting the spray of hot water in the shower to sting the cut on his chest. He’d wrapped him up in a bathrobe whilst grabbing a quick shower for himself as the bath filled up. Then he’d gently washed away the dried blood from the hair on Ianto’s chest, banishing from his mind thoughts of what might have been and focusing on the present instead. He’d lost too much to risk taking for granted what he still had. 

Letting Ianto lie back and soak in the warm water, after making him promise not to fall asleep and drown, Jack slipped out of the marble bathroom long enough to order some food to be brought up to the room. Seeing Ianto naked in the bath tub had reminded him that he’d not been eating properly for several months, his frame was leaner, his ribs more prominent. Since returning to the present, he’d eaten nothing more than some reheated leftovers, a crust of stale bread and a spoonful of jam. 

Unfortunately, it was late and the room service menu was limited, but Jack thought that sandwiches and fruit would be better than nothing. He’d make sure that a full Welsh breakfast was delivered to their room the next morning and he promised himself that at the soonest opportunity he’d take Ianto out to a proper restaurant – maybe the new French place in town. 

It struck him, as he made plans in his head for how he’d treat Ianto, that that sort of thoughtfulness was long overdue. He’d let Ianto pander to not only himself, but to the entire team, ever since bringing him in after catching the pterodactyl. Then, not to show favouritism, he’d let it continue even as their personal relationship had begun to evolve. But he’d hardly ever gone out of his way to spoil Ianto, even in their limited downtime. He could have argued that they were never off duty, but that was a pathetic excuse and he knew it. If things had worked out differently he could have been sitting alone back at the Hub at that precise moment, Ianto and Gwen stuck two thousand years in the past, Tosh shot, and goodness knows what might have happened to Owen. It had been the medic who’d made him consider the fortune of being provided a second chance and he’d be more of a fool than he already was if he didn’t make the very most of that precious opportunity.

A slight cough drew his attention to the bathroom doorway where Ianto stood, a towel draped over his shoulders and water pooling about his feet on the tiled floor.

“I thought you were going to scrub my back.” Ianto then caught sight of the phone in Jack’s lap. “What are you up to?”

“Ordering food – I can do that you know,” Jack said defensively, trying not to stare at the sight of Ianto leaning against the door jamb. His skin was flushed slightly pink from the heat of the water and he looked far more edible than anything on the menu that he held in one hand. 

“Never doubted it, sir,” Ianto smirked. He sensed a lightening in Jack’s mood and it gave him hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ianto was glad they’d taken their time before getting into bed. He lay on his back, contemplating the glass droplets dangling from the overhead light. Jack was tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen carefully avoiding the slowly healing cuts. They’d had the foresight to throw one of Owen’s first aid kits into the bag of fresh clothes that Ianto had insisted they take with them and Jack had applied antiseptic and clean dressings to the wounds, both new and ancient. 

The suite had a separate lounge area and they’d left the remnants of their supper there, Jack refusing even to let Ianto put the empty plates back on the tray, instructing him that he wasn’t to lift a finger to clear up. Ianto wasn’t sure what had got into Jack’s head, but he wasn’t questioning it, it felt good to be cared for.

The light touch of fingertips was gradually replaced by the firmer, more assertive pressure of Jack’s hand. He lay on his side next to Ianto, leaning on one elbow, his eyes following the path of his hand as he slowly worked his way from shoulder to hip, over and over, each time reaching lower, teasing gently, waiting for encouragement to go further, having no intention of spoiling the mood by moving too fast. He smiled as Ianto reached out to take his hand and hold it in place, not letting him move it away from his hip. Interlinking their fingers, Ianto dragged Jack’s hand downwards to feel how hard he was, how much he wanted Jack.

Jack shifted onto his back and pulled Ianto over onto his chest, holding him close so that their hardening cocks were pressed together. As Ianto’s lips parted with an involuntary gasp, Jack took advantage and captured them in a languorous kiss, delving in deep to taste the lingering sweetness of the strawberries they’d shared earlier. Jack’s hands glanced across the planes of Ianto’s back, scooting around the bruised area and came to rest on his buttocks, grasping him and pulling him closer, increasing the friction between them, as if trying to mesh their bodies together from lip to hip. 

Ianto abruptly broke away from the kiss as the uninvited image of Gwen entered his mind. Oh fuck … this was how they’d been lying together on the night of the Solstice. He quickly rolled off Jack onto his back, eyes shut fast and breathing heavily, desperately trying to banish images of that fateful night from his mind.

“Hey – what’s the matter – did I hurt you?” Jack could only think that he’d caused Ianto some sort of physical pain. “You got any more injuries you weren’t going to tell me about? Ianto? Speak to me!”

“It’s nothing like that…” Ianto reassured Jack, as he held a hand over his eyes unwilling to look Jack in the face. “It’s me… oh shit …”

“Ianto? What happened to you?” Jack was worried. Fears shot through his mind as he wondered what the hell had been done to Ianto to cause a reaction like that.

“Nothing happened to me. It’s something I did –”

“And you want to tell me about it now?” demanded Jack, unable to fathom what was going on.

“Yes – it’s important. I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

It had been something that had come between them in the past and Ianto had made a pledge to himself not to keep secrets from Jack. He’d been waiting for a good time to tell him what had happened on the Solstice, but really had not anticipated it would be when they had been in the midst of love-making.

“But, Ianto-”

“No, it’s OK. I don’t expect you to confess all, but I have to tell you. It’s about Gwen. Me and Gwen…”

“Oh?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up. He had wondered. “You mean something happened between you two?”

“Yes.” Ianto exhaled slowly. The worst part was over with, he just needed to tell Jack the rest. 

“I take it this happened when you were stuck in the past together?” Jack asked for clarification, beginning to get a handle on what Ianto could be referring to.

“What?” exclaimed Ianto, wondering if it had actually occurred to Jack that he’d been having an affair with Gwen at Torchwood. “Of course. When else?”

Jack waggled his eyebrows and grinned. If his gesture was meant to reassure Ianto, it failed, only causing annoyance.

“Oh, Ianto – that doesn’t matter.” Jack smiled indulgently and slid an arm around Ianto intent on returning to where they’d been moments beforehand.

“Really?” Ianto was shocked by Jack’s reaction – or lack of it. He pulled away to get a better look at his bed partner.

“You thought you were going to be there for the rest of your lives – both of you.” Jack reasoned.

“I know, but–” 

“It’s OK,” Jack chuckled in amusement. “You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have.”

The rest of the sentence he’d been about to utter died on Ianto’s lips, the words sticking in his throat. He should have known – of course, Jack would have had sex with Gwen. 

“If you must know, I did far less than you’d have done,” said Ianto, bitterly. “I didn’t actually go through with it.”

“Oh.” Jack frowned, realising that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion. “So, what did happen? Come on, you obviously need to get this off your chest.”

Ianto sat up, moving to one side to give himself even more distance from Jack. 

“We were drunk. Very drunk. It was the winter solstice, everyone was getting drunk. When we returned to our hut – in the dark I tripped and fell on top of Gwen. We ended up kissing, touching … and we nearly had sex… but I couldn’t.”

Memories of the awkward fumbling and then the flight from the hut, holding up his trousers with one hand, flashed through Ianto’s head. 

“Oh, I see – too much alcohol and you couldn’t-”

“No, that wasn’t it!” snapped Ianto. 

“Why not then?” Jack asked softly. He needed Ianto to get whatever was bothering him out of his system rather than let the guilt over what seemed to be nothing eat away at him.

“It sounds pathetic now. But, I was scared that if I did, then I’d forget what it had been like between us. All I had to hold onto were memories of … and I didn’t want to risk messing with them …”

Jack was genuinely bemused and touched. Naturally, he’d had a pang of jealousy when he’d eventually recognised them as the couple in bed together, but once he’d found out how long they’d been stuck in the Iron Age, he’d have understood if their relationship had progressed beyond the platonic. He knew full well that if he’d been in Ianto’s place he would’ve had no qualms about having sex … either with Gwen or someone else. He wondered if that was because of the century he’d been born into or because he was a more cavalier lover? It was not something he could blame on his immortality, as he had always been that way.

Pulling Ianto into an embrace, Jack hugged him close, reluctant to examine the differences in their attitudes to relationships.  
“You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” Ianto muttered, his face buried in the crook of Jack’s neck. He’d been worried about telling Jack, not knowing how he’d react– but it had never occurred to him that Jack wouldn’t have been bothered in the least. “Oh God, I am such a bloody girl …”

“Hush, not at all. You’ve been amazing – after all you’ve been through, I can’t believe you let this bother you as much as it has.” 

Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto’s head, as the significance of this latest revelation dawned on him. Ianto had toughened up as a result of his experiences in the past, physically and mentally, and yet his weakness had proved to be his feelings for Jack. He kept underestimating the depth of Ianto’s feelings for him and this had yet again flagged up just how devoted this young man was to him. Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever deserve the love that Ianto felt for him.

Ignoring the way the pressure hurt the healing wounds on his chest, Ianto let Jack squeeze him close. The physical pain helped suppress the emotional hurt that Jack’s reactions had unwittingly inflicted. He grasped hold of the older man’s hips and thrust upwards, wanting the friction to arouse his softening cock, hoping that his body’s instincts would take over and stop his mind from wandering. 

“You OK now?” Jack smiled as he felt Ianto take charge, letting him know just what he wanted next.

“Yeah - I want you.” Ianto had missed the feel of Jack inside him and wanted that more than anything. He needed to feel that he belonged with Jack.

Mindful of the physical damage, Jack carefully arranged pillows next to Ianto and coaxed him into lying face down, his chest nestled into the soft down cushion. Sprawled across him, Jack started on an earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it between his teeth, then nibbling his way down Ianto’s neck, he made his way down over the shoulders and down to the small of his back, all the time bestowing kisses until he’s satisfied himself that he’d covered every square inch from neck to exquisitely firm buttocks. He’d heard the soft groans uttered into the pillows and could feel the tension seeping away from Ianto. That made him happy. He hated it when Ianto was upset – especially when he had a suspicion that he was to blame.

Hearing a contented sigh, Jack sat up to straddle Ianto’s hips, pressing his thumbs into the flesh to massage the muscles of his back, all the while making sure his lover could feel just how turned on he was. Jack’s erection pushing against the cleft of Ianto’s backside made its presence known and its intentions unmistakable. 

“Did you…?”

“Never leave home without.” Jack had taken the precaution of slipping supplies under the copious mound of pillows when Ianto had still been in the bath. Despite the flippancy of his retort, he’d been relieved to find a sachet of lube tucked deep inside one of the pockets of his coat.

Ianto shook his head, being all too familiar with Jack’s tendency to be prepared for any eventuality, or location. It made a pleasant change to be in a proper bed and a king-sized one for that matter.

Jack shuffled around on the bed until his knees were firmly between Ianto’s thighs, spreading his legs apart to give him better access. Using his teeth to tear open the packet, he squeezed the lube out onto his fingers and then slowly and diligently he prepared his lover, teasing, probing, stroking until the man beneath him was trembling in anticipation. Although they’d had sex the previous night, it had been fast and without finesse, for Ianto this had been the first time they’d made love for a very long time and Jack had no intention of rushing him. Leaning over to press kisses to his spine as he worked his fingers in further than before, caressing internally until he could hear Ianto breathing heavily. Any more and he’d have been biting the pillows.

“Ready?”

Unable to articulate a response, Ianto nodded rapidly and reached a hand round to grab hold of Jack, pulling him down so that his cock rubbed against him, leaving wet trails as it was pressed against the cheeks of his own arse.

Jack didn’t need any further encouragement and, aligning himself with care, he pushed slowly into his lover’s body, gradually letting Ianto get re-accustomed to the feeling of being penetrated. The sounds emanating from the bed brought a smile to his face as he eventually made out the curses and the pleas for more, harder and faster. He was only too happy to oblige and leaning over to help Ianto up onto his knees, he reached around to take hold of Ianto’s neglected cock and pump it in time to his own thrusts. For him it had only been a few days since he’d taken his lover like this, but it had been such a long time for Ianto that he soon felt him clenching up, coming erratically, spilling over the knuckles of Jack’s fist that held him in a strong grip. Jack followed soon after, thrusting deep, panting heavily and grunting loudly as he came hard. He could have made it last longer, but he had no desire to leave Ianto sore and aching. 

Falling against Ianto’s back, and then tumbling alongside him into the dislodged heap of pillows, Jack held onto Ianto, unwilling to let go or even to slip out of his lover’s body. As their breathing returned to normal, Jack felt Ianto falling to sleep in his arms and pulled the duvet over them both. 

His brother may have been lost to him for good, but he had been lucky to recover Ianto from the past, where he would have surely succumbed to infection and died a prolonged and painful death. Letting his fingertips trace the scars that littered the younger man’s body, he swore to himself that he’d try harder to be worthy of Ianto’s devotion and to hold him close for as long as he possibly could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“NO!!!” screamed out Ianto, thrashing about in his sleep, his fists clenched hammering at the mattress. “Not them … should’ve been me …!”

“Ianto? Ianto! Wake up. Come on … you’re just having a nightmare! Come on, wake up,” coaxed Jack, concerned that it was taking so long for Ianto to stop thrashing around. “It’s alright. You’re safe. Come on.”

Jack took hold of Ianto’s arms and shook him gently until he opened his eyes. He looked totally devastated.

“Hey there. It’s OK – what was it?” Jack asked, dreading the answer, yet needing to know what it was that had troubled Ianto’s sleep. “Gray?”

“Tosh and Owen. They were … dead.” Tears spilled down Ianto’s face and across his cheeks. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He gulped water from the bottle that Jack passed to him before continuing. “I was carrying out the final logout protocols, closing their files. You and Gwen were packing away their personal effects. Oh god, Jack, they were both dead. It was awful… they’re alright, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they’re fine.” Jack rubbed Ianto’s back gently, hoping to calm his fears. “Probably in bed together if my suspicions are right. It was just a bad dream – must’ve been the cheese sandwiches.”

“It just seemed so vivid.” 

Ianto shook his head, hoping to dispel the dreadful scenes that were still there when he shut his eyes. They were gradually fading – but remnants remained: Tosh bleeding to death on the floor of the Hub, Owen’s disembodied voice screaming out that he was going to rage his way into oblivion, Tosh weeping and begging Owen not to break her heart. The last image hanging on in his mind was that of him, Jack and Gwen tearfully dealing with the loss of their friends. 

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto, feeling the other man holding him tightly, providing comfort in return. Looking back, he realised with a shock that there had been several forks in time over the past forty-eight hours, points in time where different outcomes could have arisen depending on decisions made and actions taken. In an alternative timeline, he could have lost everyone he loved. And he would have had no choice but to carry on. It was Jack’s fate always to be the last man standing, no matter what path he trod. But, thanks to fate, he wasn’t alone and for that he was infinitely grateful.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter - an epilogue of sorts.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Epilogue**

“Where’s Ianto got to then?” Gwen leaned on the door to Jack’s office. She had come in late, having asked for time off to get her hair cut and blow-dried. It was almost as smooth and glossy as it had been a week ago.

“Taken a couple of days off.” Jack looked up from a sheaf of papers on his desk. “And before you bitch about it, he deserves them.”

“Couldn’t agree more. He needs a bloody holiday after all he’s done. So, are you going to be taking some time off as well? You know, to be with him.”

“No, Gwen – as you can see I’m here, working,” snapped Jack, scowling at Gwen. “We all know that he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, so what’s your problem?”

“It’s just that I he’s seemed a bit down the past few days … not his usual self. He’s not even trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong.”

Jack glared at Gwen – he knew exactly what she meant, but he had no intention of discussing his concerns about Ianto with her. It irked him no end that she now seemed to be able to read Ianto better than he could.

“Well maybe a few days away from this place will do him good.” 

“He’s gone away somewhere then?” Gwen asked, hoping that her friend had booked himself a break somewhere warm. 

“I don’t know,” muttered Jack, frowning to himself. He didn’t want to admit to not knowing what Ianto was doing with his time off, but Gwen had tricked him into it. He looked up to meet her eyes across his desk – she was simmering with curiosity and something that looked a lot like anger.

“Sorry – what do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?” Gwen adopted her police interrogation stance, as if cross examining Jack in a witness box.

“He didn’t tell me.” Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Just said he needed to take off for a few days.”

“And you don’t think that’s strange – after everything that happened? After wanting nothing more than to be back here for the past seven months of his life?”

“Gwen – get to the damn point, will you?” Jack was exasperated with Gwen – he could tell she had an agenda and just wanted her to get it over with, so he could go back to pretending to do paperwork.

“It’s just that I thought you two were going steady, you know.” Gwen shrugged, ignoring the fact that she could feel Jack bristling with suppressed annoyance. She had been the one to volunteer to rattle Jack’s cage and knew that both Tosh and Owen were listening in to every word. “It’s just that couples tend to let each other know what they’re doing, that’s all…”

“I really hate that word – couple,” grumbled Jack. 

Even after living through the whole of the twentieth century, Jack was reluctant to accept what he saw as archaic traditions regarding relationships and sexuality. He loved freely, even though he seldom allowed himself to fall in love. His feelings for Ianto were beyond doubt as far as he was concerned, and he felt that he had no need to attach a label just for the benefit of others. 

However, it had not escaped his notice that Ianto had been much quieter than usual and seemed to be acting awkwardly around Gwen. It occurred to Jack that perhaps Ianto was feeling uncomfortable with her because of what had almost happened between them in the Iron Age. 

“Take a seat.” Jack took a deep breath and gestured for Gwen to sit down. He tried not to react to the smug expression of victory she broadcast. “There is something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” Gwen was delighted that her ploy had worked and that she was actually going to find out something at last. She’d grown very close to Ianto and was worried about him. His asking for time off when there was so much to be done was so out of character that she knew something was badly amiss.

“Ianto told me what nearly happened between the two of you … in the past, at the solstice.” Jack sighed heavily, hoping that Ianto would forgive him for broaching the matter with Gwen. “I really hope that isn’t going to make it difficult for you two to work together.”

“Oh … I see.” Gwen gaped, surprised that Ianto had told Jack about that. She’d not said a word to Rhys, after all he’d only just accepted that Ianto wasn’t a threat to their marriage. “Look, Jack, it wasn’t anything-”

“Sure, I know, it was nothing. It’s all fine by me.” Jack smiled at Gwen, thinking that she was also fearful of his reaction, no doubt assuming he’d be jealous of them. “It’s OK, I told him that if it was me stuck in the past, I’d have -”

“You did what?” Gwen leapt from her chair and got to the other side of the desk before Jack could take a breath.

Jack didn’t get to finish what he was going to say as Gwen swung her fist at his face hard enough to almost dislocate his jaw.

“You stupid bastard!” Gwen glared at Jack, her eyes flashing with undisguised fury. “He felt guilty that he’d almost cheated on you, even though he didn’t think he’d ever see you again … and you basically told him that you’d have gone ahead and fucked me? Have you any idea how much that would have hurt him?”

Jack shook his head slowly, although he was beginning to appreciate just how much harm he’d caused as a consequence of his tactless remarks. 

Gwen looked on as Jack rubbed the reddened area on his face, his mouth opening and closing as if he really didn’t know what to say, which was a novelty. She considered whether or not to let Jack in on something else she’d learnt from Ianto during one of their late-night chats in the cold and dark. She knew it would only twist the knife, but Jack needed to hear it.

“It doesn’t help that he thinks the only reason you asked him out on a date was because I’d told you that I’d got engaged to Rhys-”

“He doesn’t!” Jack’s head snapped up as he saw that Gwen was looking deadly serious now.

“Yes, he bloody well does, you idiot. He told me. The fact that you never did take him out on that date hardly helps matters.”

“What have I done?” asked Jack, desperate to figure out just how he could make amends for his stupidity. “How do I make things right?”

“You find him. You let him know that you’re an idiot and don’t deserve him. Then you take him out somewhere nice. The more expensive, the better.”

Gwen smiled to herself, unwilling to share with Jack the fact that she was offering him the advice she’d taken herself – from Ianto – to make things right with Rhys after the business with the space whale. She’d been on her way back to the Hub, one more time, to have it out with Jack – having seen the security camera swing onto her as she kissed her husband- and had bumped into Ianto. He’d sadly shaken his head, taken her arm and led her back to the tourist office entrance. He’d helped her to see that her priority had to be Rhys, who had bravely taken a bullet for her and would do so again, no matter how much she mooned after Jack. Ianto had confided in her that Rhys was a better man than Jack could ever be, that he could devote himself to her heart and soul in a way that Jack never could. 

“But I told you - I don’t know where he is –”

“Tosh is already onto it – she’s breaking into his files to see if there are any clues. He spent quite a while online yesterday.”

Before Jack could protest at the invasion of Ianto’s privacy or the fact that he’d been manipulated, Gwen slipped out of the office and called out to ask Tosh for an update. Jack didn’t know whether to be grateful or afraid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack’s thoughts as he crossed the Brecon Beacons were unsettled; he’d never been comfortable driving across the bleak landscape since the incident with the cannibal villagers. He relaxed more as the directions Tosh had given him took him to the west of the Beacons and into steep-sided, wooded valleys of the Black Mountains. The SUV barely fit the narrow lane he’d turned down and he really hoped he didn’t meet any traffic coming from the other direction, least of all Ianto’s car. That would’ve been very awkward. 

The signpost for Lluest on the left confirmed that he was in the right place. As did the sight of Ianto’s car parked outside an old barn – which was a relief. He’d been worried when he’d been unable to get through to his phone, thinking Ianto had deliberately switched it off, although out here it was much more likely that there was no signal.

Enquiries at the farmhouse told him exactly where to find Ianto and also informed him what he was doing there. The woman Jack spoke to had trusted him purely on the basis of Ianto’s generosity. Apparently, he’d bestowed a large sum of money with guarantees of regular donations to their Pony and Horse Trust, on the sole condition that they ensure that the next Welsh mountain pony taken in for adoption be called Myfanwy. Jack also found out that Ianto had set up a trust fund which would take over control of donations in the eventuality that he’d be unable to oversee the transfers personally. He sighed at the thought of Ianto considering his own mortality.

Jack smiled fondly as he understood Ianto’s motives. He recalled how he’d insisting on making arrangements for his beloved pony back in the Iron Age and how Gwen had explained the importance of that to him. Ianto was setting up a legacy in his name, supporting the descendants of the ponies that had provided him with comfort when he was at his loneliest. Jack was saddened that Ianto still felt the need to seek solace in the company of the horses out here, miles from home. But he understood why. He’d been an insensitive bastard. In trying to reassure Ianto that it wouldn’t have mattered to him if he’d had sex with Gwen, he’d basically told him that he would have without a moment’s hesitation. He’d also managed to give the impression that he didn’t care who Ianto slept with. That must have hurt Ianto more than almost anything else he could have said. He probably couldn’t have done more emotional damage if he’d been aiming to do so. 

Striding across the stable yard, Jack barely noticed the ponies being groomed and the stables being mucked out. He almost walked into a wheelbarrow of horseshit and straw as he was taking the most direct route to where he’d been told he’d find Ianto. Tucking his coat tails behind him, he vaulted over the stiles in the fences before heading for a row of hawthorn trees bordering the paddock he’d been directed to look for – the one with a wooded area to one side of it. 

Ianto could hardly believe his eyes when he caught sight of the figure in the long coat striding purposefully uphill towards him. He really thought he’d covered all traces, even setting up a separate bank account to keep his payments hidden from Torchwood. He wondered how the hell had Jack found him. Looking away, he gently rubbed the nose of the Shetland pony that was standing closest to the wooden fencing, trying his best to ignore Jack. 

“He’s cute,” Jack observed, reaching over the fence to stroke the little pony’s ears.

“His name is Craig. Believe it or not, he was found wandering around the aisles of Tesco’s in Cardiff. He seems to have developed a fixation with my jeans …”

“Must have good taste then.” 

Jack watched on in amusement as the scruffy little pony butted its head against Ianto’s legs as it tried to nibble at the pockets of his jeans. Ianto eventually gave in and took out the packet of Polo mints to feed one to the pony. 

“Jack, do you understand the concept of a day off?” asked Ianto, trying hard to focus on the pony, hoping it would keep him from losing his temper. “Or the idea that I might want to get away from work for more than a few hours? What’s up? Lost a file? Forgotten where the takeaway menus are kept? Missed ogling my arse?”

“I came to apologise. I guess the first apology should be for tracking you down – but- ”

“You drove all the way out here to apologise?” Ianto spared Jack a glare, before returning his attention to the sturdy Shetland pony. “Couldn’t that have waited until I got back?”

“Yeah – I guess it could have.” Jack was beginning to feel jealous of the pony. “But I wanted to see where you’d got to.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“More than anyone else I know – it’s not that. I was worried about you and then after talking to Gwen I realised how badly I’d screwed up.”

“You talked to Gwen?” Ianto was horrified. He could only imagine what Jack would have talked to her about after his awkward confession. Feeling his face flushing red, he abruptly turned away from the fence and walked away from Jack, heading into the woods.

“Ianto? Don’t go! Hear me out,” Jack yelled out, almost having to run to keep up with Ianto. “Please?”

Ianto stopped but didn’t turn around. He tried to control his breathing, what needed to be said had to be got out calmly – however much he felt like shouting.

“I suppose you both had a good laugh at my expense? ‘Stupid Ianto – looked a gift horse in the mouth and turned down the chance of a guilt-free ride’. I expect Owen has heard as well by now – great, I can’t wait to get back to work now. Thanks for nothing, Jack!”

“No – it’s not like that. I didn’t tell anyone else. If you must know, Gwen punched me when I told her what I’d said to you.”

Ianto’s lips curled up at the corners in spite of his attempts to maintain a stern expression – he turned to look at Jack.

“She punched you? Where?”

“In my office – nearly messed with this perfect jawline.” Jack pouted as he pointed at his chin. “She has a right hook that could put yours to shame.”

Ianto laughed out loud, seeing Jack standing there looking sorry for himself.

“What made her do that? What did you say?”

“Apparently I’d behaved like a thoughtless bastard and upset you. I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“Yep – you did. I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just that…” Ianto had stopped under a large oak tree and was leaning against it, looking up into the canopy of leaves as he tried to explain to Jack how he felt, unable to look him in the eye. “I always thought I was second best – a consolation prize when you couldn’t have Gwen …”

Ianto was gazing up at the patterns made by the overlapping leaves and didn’t notice Jack approach him stealthily and before he could move, he found himself pinned to the rough tree trunk, caged in by Jack’s arms.

“Never. I know it seemed that way. You’ve gotta understand – I was… I am attracted to both of you … not just because you’re both damn hot to look at, but there’s something about you – maybe it’s the Welsh blood… Gwen’s passion is upfront and hits you like a tidal wave, but yours is more subtle, like a rip tide … an undercurrent so strong that once caught up in it there’s no escape, not that I’d ever wanna break free. Yeah, there was a time I wanted Gwen and would have taken her up on her offers, that’s if Owen hadn’t got there first, but … and don’t you ever tell her this, she was easy and you were a challenge – and I’ve never been able to resist a challenge.”

“So – the reason you chose me over Gwen was because you wanted the thrill of the chase?” Ianto’s flippant response gave him time to assimilate the declarations just made by Jack. 

“No … yes… can’t you just accept that I did choose you and that I’ve no regrets over that and that anything I said about having sex with her if I’d been stuck in the past, with her, was meant to make you feel better, not worse. It was just hypothetical and-”

Ianto had to put a halt to Jack’s babbling, so he leant forward, grabbed hold of the lapels of his coat and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He didn’t break away until his lungs were crying out for air and even then, didn’t relax the grip he had on Jack.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Jack asked cautiously. He looked into Ianto’s eyes that seemed to glisten slightly in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the branches overhead.

“It means you’ve said enough to convince me that you regret hurting me … and that you’d best stop talking before you put your foot in it again.”

“Oh … that’s good… isn’t it?” Jack smiled nervously. “What else can I do? You’ve gotta know I’d do anything to prove to you how sorry I really am …”

Ianto leaned forward, sliding his arms under the heavy fabric of the great coat and wrapping them around Jack’s waist as he leaned in close to whisper into his ear. Jack’s grin grew broader and his eyes fluttered shut, allowing him to picture the images painted by Ianto’s suggestions. He nodded enthusiastically and then obligingly slipped his arms free from his coat and helped Ianto put it on. As soon as Ianto had the coat on, he pressed Jack against the tree, one hand holding Jack’s wrists firmly above his head as he kissed him with all the passion he could muster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, the two men returned to the parking area, hand in hand and with contented smiles on their faces. The younger of the two had dried leaves sticking in the longer strands of hair that curled at the base of his neck. The older man’s long coat had smudges of mud on the back of it that hadn’t come from walking through fields.

“Dinner?” Jack suggested as he squeezed his key fob, unlocking the SUV.

“As long as you’re paying.” Ianto leaned on the roof of his car after pulling open the driver’s door.

“Wear the cute suit and I’ll take you to that new French place.” Jack winked at Ianto.

“You can pick me up at eight.” Ianto returned the wink and added a raised eyebrow for good measure.

“Ianto…” Jack called out, sounding insecure for a moment. “Are we OK now?” 

“Yeah – for now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who stuck with the re-write. I have added a lot and taken away some elements that no longer rung true. 
> 
> These edits represent what I believe are improvements on any previous incarnations of the stories I've written and hopefully have inspired me to complete the WIPs and maybe start something new.
> 
> It's been an awful month for me, personally, so thanks to all the supportive comments - very much appreciated.


End file.
